THE _____ 

CROSS OF CHRIST: 

BEING 

A SERMON, 

PREACHED BY THE LATE 

H. B. BASCOM, D.D. LL.D., 

BEFORE THE GENERAL CONFERENCE OF THE METHODIST 
EPISCOPAL CHURCH, SOUTH, 

Immediately preceding his Ordination to the Episcopal Office, in St. Louis, 
Missouri, May 12th, 1850; 

TO WHICH IS ADDED 

A BRIEF SKETCH OF HIS ILLNESS AND DEATH; 

TOGETHER WITH THE 

FUNERAL DISCOURSE, 

Delivered on the occasion, before the Louisville Conference, at, Greensburg, 
Kentucky, September 21st, 1850, 

By BISHOP JAMES O. ANDREW, D.D. 



PUBLISHED FOR THE WIDOW OF THE DECEASED, 
AND SOLD BY THE SOUTHERN METHODIST BOOK CONCERN, 
LOUISVILLE, ELY. 

MORTON & GRISWOLD, PRINTERS. 
1851. 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1851, 
By E. V. BASCOM. 
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the 
District of Kentucky. 



Judge and Mrs. i»»ae R, H(t% 
Nov. 17, 1§S1 . i 



SERMON. 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST 

u God forbid that I should glory, save in the Cross of our Lord 
Jesus Christ." 
Galatians vi. 14. 

What more embarrassing, than to be op- 
pressed with a sense of the grandeur of your 
subject, and yet crushed with a consciousness 
of incapacity to do it justice ! In wfiater^r 
aspect we view the subject, Christianity is 
transcendent alike, in claim and disclosure,, 
The supernatural and extraordinary, however, 
connected with the Christian religion, so far 
from furnishing a presumption against its truth, 
suggests, in fact, a strong antecedent probability 
in favor of its divine original Had the 
disclosures of Christianity reached us, upon 
the ordinary plane of human events and earthly 
analogies, the common opinion respecting it 



10 



THE GROSS OF CHRIST. 



would doubtless have been, that it was the 
offspring of human reason and invention, and, 
of course, the confidence of mankind would 
have been withheld. The fact, therefore, that 
Christianity claims to be essentially super-ter- 
restrial — eminently transhuman, in nature and 
origin — must, to sajr the least, predispose us 
to a favorable examination, rather than the 
rejection of its pretensions. This view of 
the subject is suggested by the language of 
the text, in which the Cross of Christ appears 
as unlike and superior to every other ground 
of religious trust: "Far be it from me, God 
forbid, that I should exult, save in the cross 
of our Lord Jesus Christ" We understand 
the distinctive designation, "the Cross of 
Christ," as a brief simplification, or rather, 
comprehensive generalization, of the more 
distinguishing facts and principles of the 
Christian religion. And this single view of 
the subject, presented in a series of different 
aspects, and variously elaborated, will engross 
us, throughout the whole of the discourse 
upon which we are now entering. 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST- 



11 



And first, let us distinguish between the 
divine and the human, the essential and what 
is merely incidental with regard to the Cross 
of Christ. In all the later ages of Christianity, 
the Cross of Christ has been presented in 
aspects with which the mind of man has had 
little or no quarrel. Presented to the mind 
objectively, as the mystic symbol of Almighty 
superintendence, or Divine condescension, con- 
nected with the behests of authority, or the 
achievements of conquest, the trophies of 
power, or the triumphs of virtue, it does not, 
as the general rule, offend. As betokening 
the challenge of supremacy, or the claim of 
dominion, historic note or national vestige — 
as the Cross opposed to the Crescent — it does 
not revolt. As vaguely distinctive of the great 
message of human redemption, or as denoting 
the grand conflict between good and evil, going 
on upon the theatre of the world, little or no 
objection is urged to it. Used only to denote 
the being of God and the immortality of man, 
Christianity as the choice of a religious creed, 
or the Bible as a general rule or law of 



12 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 



action, few, if any, will find fault. As denoting 
the heroism of Christianity, the giant energy 
and moral valor of her sons and champions, 
as Paul and Luther, Knox and Wesley — or 
as the sign of triumph, held up in the 
perspective of ages, or more simply the sign 
of a religion promoting the charities which 
soften, and the arts and virtues adorning life 
and society— it will rarely be objected to. 
Sparkling in the crowns, or distinguished as 
the signet of empire — in alliance with power, 
or accredited by learning — floating upon the 
banner of battle, or gleaming on the shield 
of the warrior — its wonders rehearsed in epic, 
or swelling the grandeur of the canto — the 
Cross does not offend. Used as the seal of 
statesmanship, or speaking upon the canvass 
of Rubens — glittering from the spires of 
architecture, or drooping upon the bosom of 
beauty — there are none to except! 

So viewed, the Cross is simply a conventional 
exhibition of opinion and taste, and requires no 
renunciation of self — no cost— no sacrifice. It 
is only when we approach the full, majestic 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 



13 



design of the Cross, in the original signification 
of its appointment and purpose, that its offence 
fully appears. The great primary design of 
the Cross seems to be, to reverse the proud 
judgment, and correct the perverted taste and 
aptitudes of man, on the subject of his moral 
relations, and especially the great question of 
reconciliation with offended Deity. It is 
designed both for reproof and remedy, con- 
viction of sin, and deliverance from it It 
may be represented as exhibiting, in this way, 
the opposite poles of the Christian system — 
the ruin, and the recovery of man. It teaches 
us alike the goodness and the severity of God — 
the lovely and the awful, in his character and 
government ; and thus connects with an eternity 
of joy or anguish ! 

In order to understand the proper subject of 
apostolic boast, in the text, that is, the Cross of 
Christ, w r e ask attention to some preliminary 
views of its importance and distinctiveness. 

The designation, "the Cross of Christ," in its 
inspired use, often denotes a collection of facts 
and principles, and these always connect with 



14 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST, 



the life and ministry, and especially the death, 
of the Son of God — assuming his humiliation 
and earthly history, in the whole range of their 
truth and purpose ; and, upon this view of the 
subject, turned the characteristic originality of 
apostolic faith and preaching. The Cross, in 
its most direct, ordinary acceptation, simply 
denotes means connected with an end — God's 
method of effecting the salvation of men. The 
true idea of the Cross seems to turn upon 
the manner in which God purposed and saw 
proper to accomplish the great work of human 
salvation. It was not so much, perhaps, or, 
properly, crucifixion, compared with other modes 
of death, as death itself, which consummated 
an achievement so stupendous, and in every 
view of it, without the pale of human fore- 
sight. The fact that Christ came to his 
death, by being nailed to a crucial engine, 
called the Cross, (no uncommon instrument 
of death in the Roman empire), and styled, 
by Cicero, in his speech against Labienus, "the 
accursed tree/' does not give the mystery and 
meaning of the Cross of Christ, in the text. 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST, 



15 



These connect with the more primary fact and 
higher purposes of his death, to which cruci- 
fixion was but incidental — merely model, being 
only the form and manner of suffering. The 
opprobrium of the Cross, relating only to the 
manner of his death, is redeemed and lost sight 
of, in the grandeur of the event itself, as the 
means of man's salvation. 

The first great work of Christ upon earth 
was to turn man from himself; and, as the 
means of this result, the Cross becomes the 
key to the purposes of his mission, including 
the sacrifice of his death especially, as among 
the most illustrious of the purposes, giving 
character and grandeur to his advent. This 
method of recovery, by the Cross of Christ, 
is, in every aspect of it, a theme of high and 
reverent import. It removes the dishonor of 
God, by the very means by which it retrieves 
the apostacy of man. The vouchsafement of 
pardon is in strict conformity with the claims 
of justice. Pardon is dispensed, because, in 
the death of Christ, a moral equivalent is offered 
to God. In the redress secured to Heaven, w r e 



16 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 



have the warrant of man's forgiveness. All 
potency and virtue, in this respect, connect 
with the death of Christ. The Cross vindicates 
the Divine government, and condemns the 
offence of man, in the very act of providing 
for his recovery. Such is the comprehensive 
import of the Cross of Christ We cannot, 
indeed, think of the Cross of Christ, without 
being reminded of his subjection to the common 
lot of our kind and race, the veritable organiza- 
tion, the actual sojourn, the humblest form, the 
severest pressure, and, finally, the closing scene 
of humanity upon earth ! 

In accordance with such preliminary views, 
the Scriptures, in different forms and places, 
introduce the Cross as a revelation of truth — 
an exhibition of the will and the wisdom of 
God. 

The Cross of Christ, in this aspect, is a 
conception unsuggested in any of the thousand 
fields of human knowledge, or this world's 
wisdom. It is a new phase — a new com- 
plexion — presenting a sublime originality of 
thought and purpose, to which the human. 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 17 

mind was before, not only unaccustomed, but 
an entire stranger. It needs a system, in 
which a dispensation of pardon accompanies 
the infliction of punishment. It is the grand 
ground-conception of man's redemption. In 
the whole series of the Divine revelations, 
this is the fullest, the most direct disclosure 
of the moral character of God. It derives no 
suffrage, except subordinately, from human 
experience. In no primary sense, could the 
imagination of man vision or reach it. The 
splendor of its revelations absorbs and obscures 
all that has gone before! The silence of 
eternity, affecting the destiny of man, is first 
broken in connection with the Cross ! The 
heavens are thrown open, and the long hidden 
glories of immortality, first brought to view, 
in the field of its vision ! How all-comprehen- 
sive are its relations and bearings ! It presents 
us with the elements and incentives of law and 
order, of duty and endeavor. It is inclusive 
alike, of the Sacrament of Eden and the 
Decalogue of Sinai — the law and the prophets 
of earlier, and the grace and the truth of later 



18 THE CKOSS OF- CHRIST. 

times ; in a word, the essential principles of all i j i 
law and all religion ! 

The Cross, as typing the death and sufferings , ; 
of Christ, connects directly with moral offence ; 
and atonement for sin. The Cross was the I 
altar of propitiation, and the day in which he j 
terminated his life upon it, the great day of the J 
world's atonement. The Cross thus became 
an exhibition of the truth and goodness of 
God — his justice and benevolence. It reminds 
us of sin, and calls to repentance. It represents 
the whole mediatorial constitution. By it, 
forgiveness and return are offered to our 
revolted planet. In turning to the sacrifice of 
the Cross, it is seen that the displeasure of 
heaven rested upon the burden, not the bearer. 
He who knew no sin, became a sin-offering for 
those who knew no righteousness — the guilty 
millions of an alienated world. 

What a god-like effacement of guilt do we 
connect with the great propitiation of the 
Cross! Viewing man in relation to the 
offended law-giver, there is no right of access 
or weight of plea, without it. Without it, 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST- 19 

a " there is no crucifixion of our nature, to the 
world and sin, There is no removal of the 
? internal virus, or external infection of a sinful 
e nature. It is this alone which, upon condition 
r of repentance and faith, reverses the sentence 
e of deserved expulsion from God and heaven. 
3 To man, it is the great characteristic test of 
] the administration of Deity, as regards obedience 
or rebellion. It shows how God must deal 
■with a world, when it strays from its moral 
orbit. It speaks the double language of 
offended majesty and relenting kindness. 

The Cross is also presented to our notice, 
and claims our regard, as a centre and means 
I of moral influence. Its light and influence 
are in remedy of the great original ruin of our 
moral nature. It implies interposition, rebuke, 
and discipline. Its principles, as it regards our 
fallen nature, are those of counteraction and 
control. With what sublime offensiveness does 
it stand opposed to all that is evil ! And it is 
in this way, the purposes of the Cross redeem 
the shame of its repulsive adjuncts. The 
Cross stands in conventional connection with 



20 THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 

sin, as the occasion of its interposition ; and yet 
in eternal estrangement from it, as the means 
of redeeming man from its fearful liabilities. 

The revelations of the Cross belong to the 
world. Already the myriad tribes of earth 
stand in awe of its story, as its light is culmi- 
nating upon a thousand lands ! It is throwing 
the power of a rare attraction into every lan- j 
gauge, and all the forms of thought it may be 
used to type. Look at the might and majesty 
of New Testament truth; the vigor and effec- 
tiveness of apostolic ministrations; the deep 
seated masculine energy of the reformation ;;j 
the glow and power of religious revival; the 
intense impulsion of missionary ardor! The 
Cross alone accounts for these results. The 
publication, indeed, of Christianity, in any form, 
by its heaven-sent messengers, or the Church at 
large, is but "the preaching of the Cross. ,, 

To the world's perception, the religion of 
the Cross, viewed as a method of recovery, 
was improbable and unattractive. It suggested 
the idea of defeat and stigma. Humiliation 
and shame were felt to attach to it. To the 



THE CEOSS OE CHRIST. 2J 

eagerness of early hope, succeeded the violence 
of after disappointment. It implied opprobrium 
and offence, beyond any thing the common 
conceptions of mankind had prepared them for. 
That death should give character to a religion 
of any kind, was, in itself, improbable ; but that 
a mode of death, the most painful and revolting, 
should add lustre and attraction to this religion, 
was a supposition bordering on absurdity. It 
was in extreme dissonance with the prevailing 
views and taste of that and every age — in 
direct conflict with all the current tendencies 
of thought and feeling; and infinitely unlikely 
to command the world's approval. In this 
way, the Gross becomes the great contra-dis- 
tinctive constituent of the Christian system. 
It stands out as the title and basis of the whole 
mediatorial function, and the one great theme 
of testimony and exhibition, on the part of its 
ministers and converts. It not only gives 
originality and distinctiveness to the entire 
system of gospel truth ; but is, in fact, the great 
pillar of its historic memories over the whole 
field of its achievements! Despite its aspects 



22 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 



of repulsion, the Cross of Christ is the crown 
and emphasis of the whole scene of his advent 
— the entire drama of his manifestation in the 
flesh! The death of the Cross illustrated a 
living and responsible course of action, on the 
part of the Son of God. It was equally a 
revelation of hope and of duty to man. It 
spreads out a field for all supernatural announce- 
ments, affecting his immortality. It brings him 
in direct relationship with the powers and 
interests of eternity. In view of which, each 
one of us sustains to the Cross a relation not 
to be dissolved by the vicissitudes of time, or 
the thunder and earthquake of the last day. 

The entire system of the Gospel, in all its 
parts and bearings, spreads out around the 
Cross, like a circumference about a common 
centre. Even angelic illumination could not 
save, without the light and grace of the Cross ! 
Apart from the Cross, all means are without 
efficacy. In every moral aspect, it gives direc- 
tion to the character and history of the world. 
By the preaching of the Cross, motive and 
influence, direct and intelligible, are brought to 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 



23 



bear on all who hear or learn. The Cross is 
really the topic — the subject of allusion and 
illustration, in view of all that Christianity 
means or achieves. Thought and feeling are 
attracted to it, as a mysterious distant centre, 
always bright and vital with the light and life 
of truth! The preaching of the Cross has 
not only sown the wastes of earth and time, 
with the seeds of virtue and immortality; but 
its harvests are already waving upon the fields 
of eternity ! A thousand systems of effort and 
influence, different in character, and various in 
range and diameter, are found circling the Cross, 
as the great central type of moral excellence ! 
We cannot limit its relations, bearings, or influ- 
ence. It is comprehensive alike of the ties and 
disparity, and measures the distance and differ- 
ence between heaven and earth — God and 
men ! 

True allegiance to the Cross of Christ 
implies a fearless maintenance of the purity 
and integrity of gospel truth, without gloss or 
concealment. The Cross is the great medium 
of moral manifestation, and can only be seen in 

2 



24 THE CROSS -OF CHRIST. 

its own light. It is the comprehension and 
pledge of all truth, and every good. How deep 
in interest — how rich in glory — is every view 
of it presented by Christianity ! All the 
strength and glory of its verities connect with 
the Cross. Those who study Christianity in 
the New Testament, will find the Cross the 
capitol figure of its representations — the dis- 
tinguishing type of all its averments. Truths 
the most God-like, and facts the most stupen- 
dous, all having reference to it, are brought to 
light, and challenge our confidence! Let the 
great Apostle of Christianity be our examplar 
in this regard. Whether on the Acropolis, with 
its burden of temples and sculpture — surrounded 
by the sternness of power and the insolence of 
state, or meeting the shout of scorn and the 
scowl of defiance, amid the gorgeous piles of 
Ephesus and Corinth: whether in the bowers 
of wealth, or the courts of kings, before imperial 
tribunals, or in the household of Caesar — in 
conflict with philosophy, proud and scornful; 
or fanaticism, fierce and doting in every situation 
— before whatever audience, true to his errand, 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 2,5 

and irrevocable in purpose, we find him shut up 
to the necessity, and fearlessly committed to the 
report and proclamation, in his own words, the 
preaching of " Christ crucified !" 

We preach the Cross, as distinctive of the 
life and riches of Christianity. It is the great 
study and standard of moral action, with all 
true ministers of Christ, and members of his 
Church. It inspires the lofty purpose, and 
nerves for the strenuous deed. It stirs every 
depth, and unbinds all the latent energies of 
mind. It witnesses for itself! Every thing is 
seen in its true light, in the field of the Cross. 
Man sees himself — apart, individualized, and 
personally responsible, amid the millions sur- 
rounding him. It is the medium of the heart's 
elevation to things above. Here are the means 
of remedy, and the powers of healing! It is 
the only thing on this side heaven, worthy our 
time and study, because the only ground on 
which acquittal can proceed in the last great 
trial of humanity! It is the discriminating 
badge of the true glory and interest of Chris- 
tianity — the great rudimental germ of the 



26 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 



Christian system. It is seen in the centre, and 
upon the horizon of every sphere of charity, or 
range of effort. It is seen in the seeds of time, 
and the visions of prophecy. It blends with 
the work of the past, and the hopes of the 
future. It unites ages and nations, in one great 
struggle, for the moral welfare of the world ! 

The Cross, is the true exponent and illustra- 
tion of the whole costly and fearful apparatus 
of the law. The whole assemblage of types 
and shadows, and ritual appointments, belonging 
to all preceding dispensations, owed their only 
significance to the infinite value of the great 
sacrifice of the Cross. The entire system of 
types and shadows — the whole panorama of 
prophetic vision, must always be unintelligible 
without the Cross. Both, and all, point to the 
Cross as their substance and completion — 
as a manifestation of Godhead, more stupen- 
dous in glory, and thrilling in interest, than 
all that God beside has done for man ! 
Thought itself is awed into reverent submis- 
sion by the grandeur of the Cross, and can 
only ask, " Which, what, whence? how just, 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 27 

how good, how vast!" Even the seraph, with 
his reach of thought, and his gaze of fire, cannot 
penetrate the all of its meaning ! The glory of 
the Shekinah is no longer visible ; the Urim and 
Thummim have ceased as guides; the Bath 
Kol is silent; angelic visits no longer cheer 
humanity upon its path of trial; but, thank 
God, the Cross and the Paraclete remain! 
Hope and immortality connect with this con- 
viction. It is, indeed, the great well-spring of 
strength and consolation with the Christian 
believer. 

Just conceptions of the Cross of Christ give 
warrant and lustre to every Christian virtue. 
The great exemplar is presented to our notice, as 
co-ordinate in rank and nature with the Infinite ! 
And such, in connection with the Cross, we 
always preach the great Avenger and Repairer 
of human wrong. How dissimilar the con- 
ditions of his being, as revealed in his word! 
He is, in very truth, both God and man. He, 
in his own right, stands in the place of man to 
God, and of God to man. In the one aspect, 
he removes the fearful difficulty interposed by 



28 



THE CROSS OF CHKIST 



the character and government of God ; while, in 
the other, he meets the hopeless exigence and 
hazard of man's condition and want It is this, 
and this alone, that can still the heart-throb — hush 
the muttering lip of guilt, or soothe the agony 
of death. Affecting this great truth, every beam 
of prophetic vision — all the rays of heavenly 
light, fall upon the Cross, as the grand mystic 
symbol, having in custody the way of human 
salvation. 

The Cross is the symbol, too, of Messiah's 
chieftaincy and warriorship, as the great Captain 
of our salvation; and especially as connected 
with the Church's aggressive movements to 
reclaim the world to God. It is the sublime 
designation of his dominion over the nations. 
It is by the Cross he triumphs over princi- 
palities and powers. It is the Cross fixes our 
attention upon an administration of mediatorial 
mercy ; reaching our world, in all its divisions 
and ages, and including the whole burden of its 
families and nations. 

Faith turns to the Cross, as a simplification 
of all the glories of Christianity. And may 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 29 

God so turn your hearts, while we point you 
to it! Whether upon the platform of this 
world's activities, or the eternal retributions 
awaiting its generations, it is the last refuge — the 
only hope — the true glory of our ruined nature. 
The mystery of the Cross implies the ruin of 
our nature by sin ; God's abhorrence of it; the 
divine purpose to punish, and yet forgive sin, 
in connection with the great sacrifice of 
Calvary ; and hence we essay, in all our minis- 
trations, and however feebly, to uplift the Cross 
before you, in all the undespoiled grandeur 
of its import and meaning! 

To many, all this may be foolishness. Con- 
vinced, however, that this is rarely, if ever, the 
case, except with such as reject the grand and 
mysterious only to embrace the absurd and the 
ridiculous, we proceed to other views of the 
subject 

The doctrine of the Cross is a declaration 
of mans utter inability to help himself. He is 
without power to afford himself the relief he 
needs. The revelation of the Cross comes to 
his aid. It teaches, alike, the ruin and the 



30 THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 

restoration of man. It secures the vindication 
of law, and yet removes its curse. It reminds 
us of the original dignity — the subsequent woe 
and want of our nature, and throws us forward 
upon the boundless reversions of the future ! 
It meets the proud bent and high cravings 
of man's nature, and magnifies that nature by 
restoring him to w T hat he was before he fell ! 
Man's utter helplessness is shown in view of 
the remedy. Turn, for example, to the religion 
of the Cross, as depicted by the genius of grief 
and prophecy, in the fifty-third chapter of 
Isaiah; and how truly is it found to be one of 
trial and effort, of chastisement and want 
of suffering and self-denial, and all but to exalt 
and save ! In all its aspects its discipline is 
vital and executive, as the appointed means of 
virtue and reward. Many may recoil from it 
but to what do you appeal in its stead ? Wit 
all the denial and crucifixion of self, require 
by the Cross, however repulsive it may be t 
any, dare you throw upon the Cross a last 
look, and turn from it for ever ! What intensity 
of evil can equal the heart's dread of its last 



THE CBOSS OF CHRIST 



31 



hope, or compare with its anguish, when the 
silence of that dread is broken, by what is not 
sound, but the appalling intention of utter 
eternal loss! The rather, we pray God you 
may ever feel, as did Paul, that man should 
only glory in the dreadless might of the Cross, 
because in that might all evil may be con- 
quered! Here only is the great warrant of 
truth and discrimination, in approaching God 
for mercy, or standing before him in judg- 
ment! 

Let us notice a little more particularly, if we 
can succeed in the attempt, the true moral 
power and impression of the Cross, with regard 
to those brought under its influence. As typing 
the only method of man's recovery, it is, in the 
apprehension of faith, the out-birth and offspring 
of the Infinite mind, and impresses us accord- 
ingly Seen in the light of the Cross, the 
justice of God attracts, and his condescension 
aw T es! The Cross exhibits mercy upholding 
Divine right, and justice triumphant in the 
forgiveness of sin. Christ assumes and proves 
all this, when speaking of the Cross : he says, 



32 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST, 



" And I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto 
me/' Such is the Cross, in its true character ; 
and no reserve or disguise should be allowed to 
shroud or shadow it It is the true secret of 
all the early and later triumphs of the Gospel. 
It is the only true evangelism of the pulpit. 
It is alike the firmament and the thunder of its 
power! But, in order to this, it must be seen in 
its true import and excellence. When the 
Cross degenerates into a mere sign or symbol, 
say, for example, the crucifix, it is at once 
evidence of surrender and compromise— depre- 
ciation and absurdity — it is a libel! 

A Church or person, hanging out and 
parading the sign, without proper living illustra- 
tion of its vital significance, should be regarded 
as a lie and a cheat by self-proclamation! 
Any attempt to bring down and adjust the 
Cross to the unsanctified attachments and 
associations of the world, by investing it with 
the fascinations of poetic sensibility, giving it a 
philosophic cast, or throwing it into historic 
shadow — thus representing it, what it is not, 
and never can be, should always be regarded as 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 



33 



sheer and shameless desecration! Of this 
description was the signal red cross of the 
Crusader, flaming upon the breast of countless 
hordes of fanatic marauding invaders, as in mad 
succession they flung themselves upon the bosom 
of unoffending Asia, amid the most murderous 
scenes of devastation and pillage ! And such, 
too, was, and continues to be, the exhibition of 
the Black Cross, (as an eclipse between God 
and the human soul,) by the accursed Familiar, 
in the demon cells of the Inquisition ! 

It is the glory of Christianity to direct — to 
group and combine all her agencies and instru- 
mentalities in vital connection with the Cross. 
It ranks first among the grand principles of the 
Christian system. It is the great miracle of 
moral government. It eclipses the renown of all 
that God ever did for man beside. How 
salient and sublime in all its aspects and 
bearings ! Creation may present us with its 
heights and its depths — the out-spreading exten- 
sions of the universe; constellations may be 
seen only to fade in the presence of brighter; 
and our heaven arrest our gaze ; but, to direct 



34 THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 

attention to a higher, how feeble the impres- 
sion, compared with any just conception of the 
Cross of Christ! In every such contrast we 
assert the incomparableness and grandeur of'the 
Cross, as a revelation of the moral character of 
God! 

How appositely does the Cross contrast the 
humiliation and triumph of Christ ! In one 
aspect, the Cross represents him as discrowned 
and emptied — a man of sorrows and acquainted 
with grief. In another, elevated to unlimited 
dominion — -Almighty headship over all things ! 
The Cross is alike the means and the monu- 
ment of achievement and triumph. Abasement 
and suffering became the ground and reason of 
elevation. The Cross keeps constantly in 
view the contrasted facts of the humiliation 
and triumph of the world's Redeemer. An 
analogous arrangement also exists with regard to 
ourselves. The Cross puts us upon a probation 
of deep sorrow and anxious thought, only to 
afford us the means and warrant of final 
triumph. The interest and stress of its revela- 
tions connect with the utter helplessness of 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST- 



35 



our condition, together with the only and yet 
certain means of hope and relief. 

The preaching and power of the Cross are 
without reference to man s external condition. 
The slave at his toil, and the beggar in his 
destitution — the masters of realms, or the 
humble and down-trodden of earth — purple 
pomp, or tattered want — Polar ice-hills, or 
Lybian sands — the glacier steep, or torrid crag 
— the city, or the waste — proud sway, or thank- 
less servitude — are distinctions unknown to the 
Cross! Omniscient equity has decided that 
Jew and Gentile, circumcision and uncircumci- 
sion, bond and free, lose all distinctive differ- 
ences in the light of the Cross. Its benign 
impartiality includes all in the same covenant 
of reconciliation. As Christian ministers, in 
preaching the lessons of the Cross, ours is a 
plain and simple task. We invoke no Delphic 
oracle — repair to no Olympian shrine — our 
inspiration is not imbibed amid the oaks of 
Dodona, or the shades of Academe. We 
preach the Cross, as the inauguration and 
announcement of the great covenant-condition 



36 THE CROSS 0E CHRIST. 

of mans salvation. '.'He that believeth shall 
be saved; he that believeth not shall be 
damned!" Our mission requires that we 
elevate the Cross and claim the world for 
Christ! And charged as we are with this 
great interest, we will, we can do no less ! How 
had the world with its ages, and these again 
with their agonies, been different, and indeed, 
blest and blessings instead, had the law of the 
Cross been attended to ! As it is, what grandeur 
has it not given to history — what intensity to 
truth ! Its restraints, benign or retributive, 
extend to all; and all, with every case of claim 
or grievance, are girded by them ! It is bound 
up with all the moral relations and interests of 
universal man. The true reading and potential 
character of the Cross discredit at once the 
vauntings of reason, and the dreams of merit. 
In its true original unaltered identity, it shames 
the dilutions of modern refinement, and mocks 
dependence upon a fabulous antiquity. It 
absorbs the glory of preceding dispensations. 
It gives unity and tone to all the Divine plans 
and purposes. It teaches man — man every 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 37 

where — and in whatever condition, that immor- 
tality should be his only care, and that properly 
cared for, the matchless power of the Cross, 
penetrating the depths and intimacies of his 
moral being, and seizing upon the master- 
springs of action, will so regulate the tendencies 
of his nature, as to give this world to oblivion, 
by a proper estimate of the next! 

Thus submitted to, the Cross becomes the 
good and the glory of our nature. To possess 
the Cross, however, the mere sign or symbol, 
without the crucifixion of self and the world, 
involves all the treason of systematic betrayal. 
It is to cast off the distinctive peculiarity of the 
Cross entirely. It is hypocrisy too, as well as 
treason. A method of falsehood, giving it all 
the essence and enormity of fraud. It is to 
counterfeit the legend, and follow the augury of 
a standard, to which we do not belong. The 
true discipline of the Cross is one of check and 
counteraction. It wounds to heal, and humbles 
to exalt. Deep and salutary alarm precedes 
the assurance of reconciliation. It is the repul- 
sion — the offence proper of the Cross, which 



38 THE CBOSS OF CHEIST. 

gives the starting point of human recovery. Its 
first lesson is to teach man to distrust himself. 
In every attempt to train your vision for the 
splendors of immortality, we begin with the 
Cross. We esteem and preach the reproach 
of Christ greater riches than aught God has 
given you in any other form ! As the accents 
of derision and taunt jar on our ear, from the 
reprobate myriads of a world without God, we 
but ask, the more urgently, for an angel's tongue 
and seraph's zeal, to repeat and extend the story 
of the crucifixion 1 The Cross, intended by 
his murderers to fix a most revolting stain upon 
the character and religion of Christ, has, instead, 
fixed an eternal stigma upon sin, and all remain- 
ing under its influence; while upon the path 
and progress of the Christian, and about the 
throne and crown of Jehovah, it has poured a 
flood of rich and enduring splendor! The 
Cross deals a double death. We die to the 
world, and the world becomes dead to us. 
The world, sin, and self, are crucified. Sin is 
crucified by being subdued. Self by being 
renounced. The world by ceasing to attract, 



THE CROSS OE CHRIST. 39 

Sin, self, and the world, are not to be propitiated 
by compromise; all is trial, conflict, and cruci- 
fixion. The true chivalry of the Cross is scorn 
of self, and consecration to the glory of Christ 
and the good of our kind. The Cross presents 
an economy of motives to be met with no 
where else ; motives of tried power and demon- 
strated efficacy. Without the Cross the lamp 
of hope burns dim and sickly. There is every 
thing to confound, and nothing to encourage. 
The star and the mountain ; the ocean and the 
cataract; the whole magnificent range of the 
Creator's workmanship, afford us no hope or 
help. Christ crucified is our only help, and 
that he will become to us "the wisdom of God 
and the power of God," our only hope. It is 
from the Cross we catch the light of eternity, 
as thrown in dim or dazzling ray athwart the 
night of time, or the darkness of despair ! 

The relations and influence of the Cross are 
many and vital ; and we would, as far as may 
be, avouch all its great characteristics. It is 
alike the means and symbol of salvation. It 
embodies the wisdom and the love, the justice 



40 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 



and the mercy of God. It is the great centre 
of light and influence. It repels and attracts. 
Its aspects and functions are aggressive and 
potential. It is the medium of forgiveness and 
reconciliation. It moves heaven and earth. 
It is the one great doctrine to be taught — the 
most vital interest to be consulted— the all- 
absorbing plea to be urged. What, amid the 
madness and mockery of earth, can guide, 
console, and chasten, like the Cross! It has 
revelations none but the pure in heart can 
know. Its lessons can only be learned by the 
humble and contrite. If the wise wonder, or 
the strong sink — the fearless blench, or the 
feeble fall, let them look to the Cross for direc- 
tion and strength ! The most deserted of the 
world, the most hopeless of earth's unfriended 
exiles, as the redeemed of heaven, gather fresh 
power from the Cross, alike in weakness and 
danger — loneliness and want ! 

The gloom of grief; the smile of sorrow; 
the echo of a broken heart; the pressure of 
want; the anguish of desertion; bread bought 
with tears and toil; all these are within the 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 



41 



range cf the help and hope afforded by the 
Cross: and who does not feel that opposition 
or indifference can only originate in miscon- 
ceptions, and must as certainly end in failure and 
defeat ? 

Equally true is it of the Cross, that it is 
always accessible with its plenitude of energy, 
its undisturbed majesty, and the perfections of 
Godhead encircling it, like a sphere of splen- 
dor! Pilgrims of earth and time ! What, beside 
the Cross of Christ, can be your pillar of light 
in this wilderness of dread I In every vicissi- 
tude of time and trial the power of the Cross 
remains the same. Compared with it, art dims, 
laws and letters, and even earth's congregated 
dynasties, are poor in resource ! What object 
or event calls up such memories as the Cross ! 
The faith and piety of ages have consecrated 
its achievements ! Always, in every place, 
God's own day-light surrounds and invests it! 
The ever-recurring duties of a Christian life 
are but so many duplicatures of its lessons. Its 
effulgence hues every flower, and fires every 
gem of Christian virtue! 



42 



THE CROSS OE CHRIST. 



Would to God we had a ministry trained 
only in the school of the Cross ! Look at the 
noble simplicity, the sublime honesty of apos- 
tolic preaching, in the exhibition of the Cross ! 
The message of God's mercy, by means of the 
Cross, was the burden of every lesson. Minds 
of the strongest mould and firmest tension felt 
its power. The faith of the Pharisee, and the 
wisdom of the philosopher, gave way before its 
advance! No array of circumstances, or 
posture of intellect — no impulse of the multi- 
tude, or movement of the age, could turn it 
aside for a moment. 

It was with them no astral light, but the sun 
in the heavens of the system. And so must it 
be with us — with you. Its comprehension and 
pre-eminence, with regard to all other truths 
and interests, must so arrest and engross you, 
as to bring every thought into captivity to the 
obedience of Christ 

The Cross of Christ — denoting alike the fact 
of his death, and the doctrine of the world's 
atonement, by means of it — when first preached 
on the day of Pentecost, struck a chord which 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 43 

has been vibrating in the universe of mind ever 
since ! The vibration is felt here, and by you, 
and is extending to distant nations and future 
ages! The Cross and the crucified are before 
us in all their original freshness of grandeur and 
claim! The majestic overwhelming attraction, 
thrilling the first beholders of the scene, is 
realized and repeated in the vision and impulse 
with which we recall it! Time and space, 
as it regards the power of the Cross, are 
without effect. Past and present offer no 
contrast. The Cross belongs alike to all 
time, and every place. Faith and impression 
makes us a party to the scene ; the ground, even 
now, is trembling with the earthquake of the 
crucifixion ! The cry of the centurion at Jerusa- 
lem becomes a part of the drama every where. 
So far from delay or failure, the glories of the 
Cross culminate as in the first burst of efful- 
gence. All is vitality and effect, movement and 
progression ! Well may we, as did Paul, obtest 
the name of God, and ask his interposition, 
against any other ground of trust or means of 
distinction ! 



44 THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 



Finally: Many and great have been the 
triumphs of the Cross; but much remains to be | 
accomplished. Take the earth, with its ten 1 
hundred millions of children, and let every day 
be a Pentecost, with its three thousand converts ; j 
and even at this millenial rate, more than three | 
hundred years would be required for the world's I 
conversion ! Are we readv for our share of the 
work? Ministers of Christ! Where are your 
tongues of fire, and words of flame 1 By 
intention of their appointment, Christian minis- 
ters are eminently men of one work, and they 
should keep to it ! What that work is, we have 
seen, and would to God we felt it too ! All is 
change and vicissitude about; the world's drama 
is unfolding ; the games of life go on ; passion 
and interest enslave their millions; but there 
stands the Cross ! In deep and high allegiance 
to its claims, let its creed of love to God and 
charity in need be ours ! Our position should 
always be determined by that of the Cross, 
Calling to one world, and pointing to another — 
an eminence commanding a view of both— the 
foot of the Cross should be our only point of 



THE CROSS OF CZfUIST, 45 

survey, in all the applications of influence and 
office ! God forbid that we should glory, save 
in the Cross ! Preach it, then, messsengers of 
God ! preach it ; not as the mystic monogram 
of the Roscicrucian ; not as it streamed in the 
folds of the Imperial Labarum; not as shrouded 
in the dead sanctities of ages, or shrined in the 
Pandieon of thought or letters; but "the 
wisdom of God, and the power of God." Let 
its ministers preach it, as the symbol of a living, 
not a vanished creed. Let them preach it, as 
achieving for all what no man can achieve for 
himself, or confer upon another ! In this sign, 
and in no other, we conquer; nor can we doubt 
the issue, if faithful to our trust. Rob us not, 
then, earth or heaven; rob us not of a single 
foe! be it our glory to conquer all! The 
Cross is still shedding light on path and goal, 
just as it did when first pointed to by Paul; 
and to the ministry of the Cross, we would say, 
give to it the strength of youth and the honor 
of age ! It will inspire you with the courage 
of true goodness, as nothing else can ! Specially 
charged with the maintenance of this high 



46 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST, 



trust, blench not from the consecration and 
purpose of your work! With the shadow of 
the Cross upon the dial of your hopes, and 
awaiting the close of the struggle, to hang your 
shield upon it, and leave there the inscription — 
" All blessing, and by all blest/' what more, have 
you to hope, or to fear ! The Cross has moved 
in advance of the triumphs of mind for fifty 
generations, and yet upon every trial is exhibit- 
ing new and hidden powers ! No craft can 
circumvent — no ignorance surprise — no failure 
betray, or emergence perplex — nothing can 
thwart its purposes, or defeat its final efficacy ! 
Do your duty, and whatever else may happen, 
"conquering and to conquer" shall mark the 
progress of the conflict, and be the record of its 
close ! Assured of the past and of the present, 
we cannot doubt as to the future. More than 
two hundred languages are embarked in its 
advocacy ! Nations heed its lessons, and walk 
in its light ! In this light, and from these lessons, 
they learn their duty and their mission ! What 
interests, issues, or memories, will compare with 
those, storied about and in relation to the 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 47 

Cross! Who can trace the deep descending 

lines of its influence ! In its light, truth and 

example will travel on, until the triumph is 

complete; and the lofty fellowship and grand 

enrollment — the celestial wonders and temple 

inhabitation of the heavenly world, with all the 

room and verge of ever-unfolding progress, shall 

be seen to connect with the Cross, as did the 

virtues they reward ! Our planet and its races 

do not limit the glory of the Cross. Other 

orders and relations of the universe must be 

taken into the account. From the Cross may 

be borne lessons of instruction to beings of 

whom we have no record ! Thence light may 

be thrown upon distant centres of existence, 

of which we have never heard ! Where is the 

far-off world, whose intelligence and virtue may 

not receive instruction and warning from the 

story of the Cross ! 

The remoter places of creation may open 

upon us in limitless expansion — range above 

range — vista beyond vista — and yet even here, 

thought and emotion thrill with the vibrations 

of its influence ! This whole stupendous plat- 
4 



48 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST- 



form, with its culmination of marvels, is but a 
majestic exhibition of intellectual grandeur, 
while the Cross presents us with a field and 
scene of moral manifestation, at once enthroning 
the perfections of Godhead in the heart of the 
worshipper, and blending the hopes of earth 
with the reversions of immortality ! 

Such is the Cross, and such some of the 
aspects in which it should be view T ed! Nor 
might we stop here, but that thought and feeling, 
with lofty emphasis and burning ardor, transform 
the language of the text into that of triumph 
and acclaim; and the only utterance left us, 
worthy of our joy, is — the Cross! the Cross! 
Sharing alike in its glory, and lighted up with 
its splendor, let heaven and earth exchange the 
shout— the Cross ! the Cross ! Let the Church 
below, bought with the blood of the Lamb, and 
journeying upward to his seat, make it their 
song upon the road— the Cross! the Cross! 
Let the Church triumphant above catch the 
distant sound, and send it from vault to vault, 
through all the temples and pavilions of eternity 
—the Cross! the Cross! Let those majestic orbs 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 



49 



that, in peopled immensity, roll circling the 
throne of God, carry it through all their revolu- 
tion — the Cross ! the Cross ! Let angels and 
archangels pass the rapturous acclaim — the 
Cross! the Cross! Raise it every voice — 
sound it every harp — the Cross ! the Cross ! 
From the last bounds of being- — from world 
to world — from heaven to heaven — re-echo 
the Cross! the Cross! Martyrs for the 
testimony of the crucified; spirits of the 
just and the mighty; all beings; all natures; 
lift, lift the bold strain — the Cross ! the 
Cross! Loud as the sound of many waters 
and mighty thunderings, raise, raise the over- 
powering symphony, until the innumerable 
systems — every column, and every dwelling 
place of universal being, shall vibrate with the 
triumphant acclamation — the Cross ! the Cross ! 
" Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive 
blessing and honor, and power and glory, for 
ever and ever!" 




4 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS 

CONNECTED WITH THE 

ILLNESS AND DEATH 

OF 

BISHOP BASCOM, 
BY E. S. 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 



Much anxious solicitude is usually felt, in all Christian 
communities, respecting the closing events of human 
life ; and, especially so, when the subject is known to 
have occupied a prominent position in society, or to 
have been distinguished in Church or State, on account 
of superior talents, extraordinary virtues, or eminent 
public services. 

The mortal remains of the lamented Bishop Bascom 
had scarcely been committed to the tomb, when, from 
almost every section of this great confederacy, com- 
munications were received, by mail and telegraphic 
dispatch, calling for all the facts and incidents 
connected with this most afflictive dispensation of 
Providence. The sudden and unexpected death of 
this distinguished minister of the Cross of Christ was 
deeply and intensely felt, as well by the community 
at large, as by the Church to which he was more 
immediately attached. 



54 FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 

At an early period, after the annunciation of this 
sad intelligence, a brief and imperfect account of his 
illness and death was drawn up, in the midst of much 
family affliction, and hastily submitted to the public 
through the medium of our Church periodicals. The 
circumstances under which that communication was 
prepared for the press, rendered it, no doubt, as 
unsatisfactory to the Church and the public generally, 
as it certainly was to myself. 

At the earnest request of many intelligent and 
highly esteemed friends, I have, at length, consented to 
furnish for publication, a more full and detailed account 
of such occurrences, in the history of the "last 
days " of this great and good man, as may be distinctly 
recollected by myself and others. And, to the 
performance of this task, I have the more readily 
assented — whatever may be my incompetency in other 
regards — from the fact of my intimate, and almost 
perfect knowledge of every thing that transpired in 
connection with the case, during the whole period of his 
confinement. Not a day, nor scarcely an hour having 
elapsed, from the commencement to the termination 
of his attack, without my personal presence in his 
room, and most of the time, by his bed side. 

The reader will, however, perceive, that I have 
aimed at nothing more than a plain and simple relation 
of facts. The very minute details, with which the 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 



55 



following pages will, probably, abound, must be 
attributed in the main, to my great anxiety to meet, 
as far as practicable, the expressed wishes of a 
numerous and highly respectable class of the Bishop's 
devoted and ardent friends. 

Bishop B as com arrived in Louisville, on his return 
from Independence, Mo., the seat of the St. Louis Con- 
ference, at an early hour of the day, August 2nd, 1850 ; 
but not being in time to secure a passage in any 
of the stages for Lexington that day, he entered 
his name, and paid his fare for the next morning, and 
came directly to the Book Room. We were greatly 
delighted to see him. His safe return, under the 
circumstances, was hailed by us all with many expres- 
sions of gratitude and affectionate regard. Five weeks 
before he had left our city en route for the seat of the 
Conference, above named: the first in the range of his 
episcopal work for the year ; and the first, as well as 
the last, over which he ever presided. The cholera, at 
i that time, had just made its appearance on the 
western waters. Much solicitude was felt for his 
safety. The subject having been mentioned in his 
presence, he calmly replied, "I am not unmindful 
1 of the perils to which I shall, probably, be exposed ; 
but I must take protection under the old and well- 
i attested maxim: ' Tlie path of duty is the way of 




56 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS* 



Through the politeness of the very gentlemanly clerk 
of the Steamer, on which he embarked for St. Louis,: 
we had learned that, soon after leaving our wharf; j 
the cholera broke out among the deck passengers,; 
There was some medicine, but no regular physician on; 
board. Much excitement and alarm prevailed. Up tc j 
this time, Bishop Bascom had been regarded, by i 
many, as rather exclusive, and somewhat forbidding i 
in his deportment and manners. But, on being j 
informed that this fearful destroyer had made its ! 
appearance among the passengers below, he immediately 1 
tendered his services, both as physician and nurse, tc j 
all who were supposed to be in need of assistance. 
In a word, that such had been his kindness and 
attention to the sick and dying, that, before theyj 
reached St. Louis, he w^as regarded by all on board, 
not only as among the greatest and best of men, | 
but as a successful practitioner, in the treatment of \ 
cholera. 

This was all the information that had been received, 
concerning him, from the time we gave him the parting^ 
hand, on board the St. Louis Packet, up to the 
morning of his arrival in our city. The trip — as we had" 
expected, and as we now learned from his own lips — 
had been one of much privation, exposure, and mental 
anxiety. Such had been the press of business, and 
the incessant demands on his time and attention, that, 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 



57 



iwith the exception of a brief note or dispatch to his 
wife, he had not written a single line to any of his 
numerous friends in Kentucky, or elsewhere, during his 
absence. 

i Never did we see him in, apparently, better health 
and spirits. He spoke of the trip and its occurrences, 
with much more than ordinary interest; and of the 
.Conference, its members, business, &c, in terms of 
:the highest commendation. He said, that he had 
enjoyed most excellent health, during the whole 
•period of his absence, until that mornings while passing 
through the canal, he had been taken quite unwell — 
had ate no breakfast — but felt something better. 
; After our first interview, in which we were favored 
.iwith a pretty full and circumstantial account of his 
tour, the following notice of his return, labors, &c, 
was prepared for the Louisville Christian Advocate, 
land was accordingly, published in that paper of 
August 10th. 

W " Bishop Bascom reached this city on Friday morning, the 2nd 

%: nst., on his return from the St. Louis Conference, at Indepen- 
lence, Mo. Owing to unavoidable detentions on the Mississippi 

I ind Missouri rivers, arising from the prevalence of cholera and 
Dther causes, he did not succeed in reaching the seat of the 
Conference until Saturday, the 13th ultimo. The Session is 

I represented as having been one of unusual interest, and much 
zood feeling ; and, it is confidently believed, that the business was 
transacted to the entire satisfaction of the great body of both 



58 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 



preachers and people. We also learn that, after the close of 
the session, the Bishop availed himself of the privilege of 
visiting the Fort Leavenworth Manual Labor School, under the; 
superintendence of our excellent brother, the Eev. Thomas! 
Johnson. It is scarcely necessary to say, that he was much; j 
gratified with his visit to this flourishing institution. He 
represents it as being in a healthful and prosperous con-' f 
dition ; and, in every respect, worthy of the confidence and 
patronage of all who desire the civilization, moral improve-i j 
ment, and religious welfare of the Indian tribes, for whose benefit , 
the school was originally established, and is still sustained. 

The Bishop was greatly delighted with the spirit of self-;i 
sacrificing devotion to the interests of primitive Methodism, \ 
which, he thinks, has been, and is still being evinced by the<| 
members of the Conference. In fine, he has made the tour j 
under circumstances the most unfavorable, in the midst of 
disease and death ; but, through the abundant mercy of God, his 
life has been preserved, and he returns home, bearing with him 
sentiments of the highest regard for those with whom his lot has j 
been cast, and with feelings of the most affectionate gratitude, for j 
the numerous acts of Christian courtesy and kindness which he 
received at the hands of all with whom he was associated during 
his absence. We also learn, that he had the privilege of, 
preaching to large and attentive congregations, at Weston, 
Lexington, Boonville, and St. Louis, as well as at Independence, 
during his tour. Long may he live, as an honor to the ministry, - 
and as a blessing to the Church, in the present important' 
relation that he sustains." E. S. 

Declining the numerous invitations of his brethren to 
dine, on the ground of indisposition, the Bishop con- 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 



59 



inued in the Book Room, during the principal part of the 
lay. He, however, asked for no pen, ink, and paper, 
is was his custom when in the office; evidently 
nanifesting a disposition to devote himself, exclusively, 
o conversation and social intercourse with his brethren 
md friends, who were constantly calling in to see him. 
, Perceiving, in the course of the afternoon, that he was 
Qore unwell than we had supposed, I insisted on his 
';oing out to my house, and trying to get a comfortable 
light's repose. He readily assented, on the condition of 
ny seeing the stage agent, and giving him the necessary 
. reformation on the subject, as it would not do for him 
o be left the next morning. On reaching my 
•esidence, he was urged to go directly to his room, 
md lie down. But he said, "No, take me to tho 
loolest spot on your premises, and let me sit down; 
or I want to have a good, old-fashioned talk with 
Sister Stevenson." 

He was conducted to the back porch — took his seat 
>n the lounge, and began to converse with his usual 
heerfulness. It was, however, soon discovered, that 
le was not able to sit up, and we again insisted on 
ds retiring to his room. But he still said, "No," 
jid added, "if you will permit me to take off my 
:oat and boots, I will lie down here, and try to rest 
nyself." There being no objection, of course, he 
lid so; and having, with some little assistance, 



60 FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 

adjusted himself according to his wishes, he said, 
"This is the most comfortable position I have been! 
in for a week." 

During the remainder of the afternoon, he appeared 
quite cheerful, and conversed freely and affectionately 
with all who approached him; not neglecting the 
servants, to whom he never failed to speak in words of 
kindness, and with whom he was always a very greai 
favorite. 

At the ringing of the bell for supper, he rose uj 1 
quickly, and said, "Well, I must go in and try tc 

eat: Sister 3- never wants any idlers about her. ?: 

He, accordingly, made the attempt, but in vain, ' 
Dropping his knife and fork, and looking us ful 
in the face, he said, "I can't eat, after all; Sistei 

S you must excuse me— I must lie down." He 

was immediately conducted to his room; and, after 1 
assisting him to bed, he desired me to return ir 

' '' id 

the course of half an hour. I did so — gave hin 
some medicine that had been prescribed by Dr. Bright:: 
and, at his special request, remained with hin 
till near ten o'clock. He conversed with much 
freedom in relation to some business matters, in whicl 
he manifested great interest. When about to leave hi* 
room, finding his pulse much excited, I suggested 
that, in case he was not decidedly better, in &< 
morning, it would be very improper for him to thinl 



PACTS AND INCIDENTS. 61 

of leaving. He promptly replied, " I must go — I must 
go home." 

At four o'clock the next morning, being aroused by 
the stage horn, I hastened to his room — found him 
awake, though still in bed. Supposing that he had 
' abandoned the idea of leaving that day, I proposed 
going out and requesting the driver to call for him 
the next morning ; but he said, " No, no." I insisted 
on his remaining in bed, assuring him that he was 
in no condition to travel. He still said, raising 
his head from the pillow, "I must go — Stevenson, 
/ must go home." With much difficulty, we, at 
length, succeeded in getting him seated in the stage. 
As he extended the parting hand, he said, with a 
tremulous voice, "Tell all good by." 

In the course of an hour we were again called 
up, by the ringing of the front bell. I went 
directly to the door, and, on opening it, to my great 
astonishment, found the Bishop reclining on the 
steps— his trunk and baggage on the pavement. 
He was much exhausted, and spoke with difficulty. 
Having succeeded in "getting him back to his room, I 
proposed sending for a physician. He assented, and 
requested me to call in Dvs. Bright and Pirtle, with both 
of whom he had long been personally acquainted. 

The call was promptly made, and as promptly met. 
His case was calmly and carefully considered ; and such 



62 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 



remedies, as were deemed proper, duly administered, j 
The general impression, however, was, that a little medi- 

cine, and a few days' rest, would effectually restore him. j 

i 

During the early part of the day he complained 
but little. In the afternoon he appeared much better — - 
was unusually cheerful, and gave us, in substance, 1 
the following somewhat humorous account of what had J 
occurred that morning, in his attempt to get off in j 
the stage. 

"Soon after leaving the Gait House," he said, 
" the stage being crowded almost to suffocation, he j 
was taken very sick, and vomited several times." 
The cholera, it should be recollected, was still lingering 
in the city. The inquiry was soon started, and, in a 
little time became rife throughout the stage — u What's 
the matter? what's the matter with that man?" At 
length a gentleman, occupying a seat immediately 
before him, turning round, inquired with much 
more than ordinary interest, — " What's the matter?" 
"X am sick — -very sick," was the Bishop's reply. 
" But don't you think," continued the gentleman, 
"you have got the eiwleraV* "X cannot tell," 
said the Bishop, " though I should rather think not." 
" Well," said the affrighted stranger, "if you've not 
got it, you've something very much like it, and I 
shall not be astonished, if we all take it, for I 
believe it's catching." A true bill was soon found 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 



63 



against him. All on board, himself only excepted, 
appearing most anxious to concur in the opinion, that he 
certainly had the cholera, and should, by all means 
leave the stage, at the earliest possible moment, 
Finding himself utterly unable to proceed, he expressed 
a willingness to comply with their wishes, provided he 
could be brought back to my house. The stage, now in 
the suburbs of the city, was soon stopt, and all 
hands, irrespective of his proviso, were most anxious 
to assist in depositing both him and his luggage by the 
way side. But just as the driver was preparing to 
start, not knowing what had occurred, one of the 
passengers said — " Gentlemen, this won't, do; I shall 
not consent to leave this sick man here in the dark, to 
die like a beast on the commons." A sharp controversy 
immediately sprang up between him and some of the 
company, who had been most active in getting him out 
of the stage. The driver, at this juncture, perceiving 
that some matter of dissention had taken place among 
the passengers, came down from his seat, and, after 
looking on, and listening for a few moments, said, " I 
believe he's got the cholera, and it won't do to leave 
him here." " What, then," said one of the company, 
" will you do with him ?" " What will I do with him ?" 
replied the driver, with an air of evident indignity, 
"Why, sir, take him back, at the risk of my life." 
Which he accordingly did, no one presuming to object, 



64 FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 

Late in the evening of that day, he proposed starting 
home the next morning, as he felt so much better. His 
physicians, however, objecting, he said no more on the 
subject. The next day came, and still the next, but 
with no visible change for the better, in his condition. 

After the lapse of a week or more, he desired 
me to sit down by his bed-side. Having done so, he 

said, " Brother S , I am no better ; my disease, be 

it what it may, is still untouched. The Doctors have 
done the best they could ; but, after all, I am disposed 
to think, the nature of my case is not understood — I do 
not understand it myself. One thing is certain, it has 
not been arrested by any of the remedies that have 
been employed ; nor do I believe it can be, by any to 
which they may resort. I have the same distressing 
pain in my head, the same misery in my stomach and 
bowels, the same total loss of appetite and disrelish for 
food of every description; and, worse than all, the same 
excessive languor, and utter insensibility to every thing 
about me, which I had in the commencement. The 
truth is, I have been strangely brought to believe that, 
I must die! My temporal matters are not as I could 
wish, though I shall try to be resigned to the will 
of Providence." 

When about to leave his room, I remarked that, if it 
were his desire, the attending physicians, I had no 
doubt, would take great pleasure, in calling to their 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 65 

assistance any additional counsel that he might wish. 
" For his own part," he said, "he was perfectly willing 
to trust his life, so far as human instrumentality 
was concerned, in the hands of his brethren; but, in 
view of all the interests involved, it might, perhaps, be 
best to have the advice of some other professional 
gentlemen: that he had no choice to make, but 
wished his physicians to be satisfied." Doctors 
Theodore S. Bell and Lewis Roclgers — gentlemen 
of known and acknowledged medical skill and repu- 
tation — were invited to assist in the further treatment 
of his case. And never did physicians more fully and 
faithfully discharge the very responsible and arduous 
duties of their profession. By day and by night, they 
were found at their posts, diligently watching and 
intensely studying the nature and progress of the 
disease, with which they had been called to contend, 
and over which they so anxiously sought to obtain the 
mastery. The failure of success, in the treatment 
of Bishop Bascom's case, must be attributed, under the 
superintendence of an inscrutible Providence, to the 
stern and inflexible nature of his malady, and to no 
want of skill or attention on the part of his able 
and indefatigable physicians. 

Although he manifested but little disposition to 
engage in conversation with his brethren and friends ; 
he, however, always appeared to be highly delighted 



66 FACTS AND INCIDENTS, 

with their company, and frequently spoke of their 
visits with much heart-felt gratitude. To all "who 
approached him, he extended his hand with the usual 
expressions of courtesy and kindness. No one, 
however humble or obscure, ever left his room, 
having cause to complain that, he had been treated 
with indifference or neglect. 

Great solicitude was felt throughout the entire 
community, on his account. With most of the older 
class of citizens, he had long been personally and 
intimately acquainted, having been the first Methodist 
preacher ever regularly stationed in this city ; while to 
hundreds and thousands of others, his name had been 
favorably known and highly appreciated for many 
years, as well on account of his noble and generous 
virtues, as for his superior talents and commanding 
eloquence. The most of his former friends, whether in 
or out of the Church, found it convenient to call and 
see him during his illness. The utmost anxiety was 
manifested by all for his recovery. Each seemed 
to vie with each, in acts of kindness and attention. 
Little as he may have said, by way of acknowledgement, 
to those who ministered to his comfort, no human heart 
ever felt more deeply the emotions of sincere and 
unaffected gratitude, than his — " The cup of cold 
water" extended to him, was not permitted, in this 
respect, to lose "its reward." Judge P- , an 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 67 

old acquaintance, and a gentleman of high respectability 
and moral worth, having spent an hour or more by his 
bed side, the Bishop remarked, on his leaving the room, 

What an excellent man he is ! I have always loved 
and admired him." But here he paused. The tears 
were silently stealing down his cheeks. After a 
momentary silence, he proceeded : " It grieves me 
very much to think, that my afflictions should become 
the source of affliction to my friends." The Judge 
had, evidently, labored to conceal the deep feelings 
of his heart: but they had not escaped the piercing 
glance of the Bishop's keenly observing eye. At 
another time, he said, " My friends — Oh, my friends ! 
if they could but cure me by kindness, I should 
soon be well ; but they cannot do it." 

He spoke of his wife and children with much 
tenderness and affection: especially when the subject 
of sending for them was mentioned in his presence. 
On the arrival of his wife, the fact was promptly, 
though prudently communicated to him. He was 
greatly excited, and expressed a desire that a little 
time should be allowed him to adjust his feelings. 
Their meeting, though marked with much calmness 
and self-possession, was, nevertheless, most solemn 
and affecting. From the hour of her arrival, 
up to the final termination of his afflictions in 
death, her attention was most devoted and untiring. 



68 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 



Never did a wife more assiduously or affectionately 
administer to the "wants and woes" of a dying 
husband. 

As his end drew near, there was a manifest increase 
of strength and perceptive energy, in all his external 
senses. Such was the acuteness of his taste, that he 
could detect, as if by intuition, the slightest additions or 
variations in any of his medicines or refreshments. His 
sense of hearing, too, became so strangely invigorated, 
that he could distinctly understand the most suppressed 
whispers, in any part of his room. A good brother said 
to me, in a remote corner of his apartment, " As he is, 
evidently, no better, I think the Homeopathic treatment 
should now be tried." After he retired, the Bishop 
said, "I shall not, willingly, submit to a change of the 
practice, in my case. If the regular physicians 
cannot cure me, I shall certainly die in the hands 
of others." " What !" said I, " did you hear the 

remark of brother H ?" "Hear him," said 

he," I hear every thing." On another occasion, 
supposing him to be asleep, an allusion was made, in a 
deeply suppressed tone of voice, to some very 
unkind reflections which had just appeared in a 
Northern Methodist print. He suddenly opened his 
eyes, and, after a short pause, having, evidently, 
understood all that had been said, remarked, with 
much deliberation and earnestness, " Well, it is to be 



PACTS AND INCIDENTS. 69 

hoped that, when I am dead and gone, my re viler s will 
cease this cruel warfare on my principles and repu- 
tation. I have acted, throughout this whole controversy, 
under an imperative sense of duty; and, bating the 
use of a few terms, have nothing to regret — 
nothing to retract. I must, therefore, be allowed to 
indulge the hope, that when I am no more of earth, 
my name and character may be permitted to repose in 
peace. I have suffered much wrong and injustice at 
the hands of those, whose lawless measures I have 
been compelled, as an honest man, to resist. But I 
forgive — freely do I forgive, as I pray God to forgive 
us all." He was much affected, and so were we all. 
Having assured him of our deep regret, that any thing 
should have been said to agitate and afflict him, in his 
feeble and prostrate condition, we retired, leaving him 
in tears. 

Owing to a constitutional delicacy, to which had 
been added, in early life, a deeply rooted abhorrence 
of every thing having the semblance of empty 
profession and ostentatious display in religion, he had, 
for many years, too seldom, perhaps, spoken out, in 
relation to his own personal enjoyments. And now, 
that' he was confined to his dying pillow, the same 
peculiarity still marked his history. On several 
occasions, however, when alone with him in his room, 
the subject of religion was introduced by himself, 



TO FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 

though with much apparent diffidence and humility. 
In these conversations, he always expressed the 
most unshaken confidence in the Divine origin and 
consequent truth of Christianity. Touching his own 
condition and prospects, he disclaimed, in the most 
emphatic terms, all dependence on himself, trusting 
alone for salvation in the merits of Christ. 

A fire having been kindled in his apartment, he 
said to me, in a very familiar and affectionate tone 
of voice, " If I am not mistaken, the first fire ever 
made in that grate was for my accommodation?" 
Having answered in the affirmative, I remarked, 
"And you are the first individual who ever slept 
in this room." "I believe," said he, "you call 
this my room?" I replied; "We do," and added, 
" while we live, or continue to occupy the house, it 
will always bear your name." " There is something," 
said he, " very singular about it. I have slept but 
two nights elsewhere, when in this city, for the last 
four years ; and here, I am strangely led to believe, 
I shall die." "Do you really think so ?" said I. He 
answered, " Yes, I have thought so all the while, 
when able to think for myself." He spoke with much 
confidence in relation to his future happiness, and 
professed the most satisfactory assurance of his accep- 
tance with God. It is proper, however, to remark, 
that, in all he said, there was an air of unaffected 



PACTS AND INCIDENTS. 71 

humility and self-abasement. The mercy of God, as 
revealed in Christ, was his only and all-sufficient 
plea — the sure and firm foundation on -which he 
predicated all his hopes of immortality and eternal 
blessedness. 

Haying, at another time, referred to a communi- 
cation that had been made by Bishop Roberts, when 
supposed to be at the point of death, in this city, 

during the winter of , and especially to that part 

of it, in which he had said — " On the near approach 
of death, as, in all my past life, I can discover no 
rock of hope on which to rest my weary spirit, but 
Jesus Christ, as revealed in the Gospel ; and should I 
be so happy as to obtain some humble seat in Heaven, 
it will never cease to be true of me, that I am 
but a sinner saved by grace " — a solemn pause 
ensued ; after which, he said, " True, true ; how true 
it is, that all our help and hope is of God, through 
the infinite merits of Jesus Christ." 

Subsequently, he remarked, that the Methodist 
Church had never been honored and blessed with a 
purer and better man in the Episcopacy, than Bishop 
Roberts; and added, "But for his timely interposition 
in my behalf, I know not what would have become 
of me. I have long regarded him as my ecclesiastical 
saviour." He would have said more, but his heart 
was too full to proceed. At length, he said, though 



72 FACTS AND INCIDENTS.. 

still greatly excited, "I hope to be associated with 
him again, where envy and strife, affliction and pain, 
will never come." 

During the last week of his earthly existence, 
I remarked to him, that I was about to mail some 
letters to Bishop Andrew, at Parkersburg, the seat 
of the Western Virginia Conference, and asked him, 
if he had any communications that he wished made to 
the Bishop. He looked at me with much earnestness, 
and said, "Yes, say to Bishop Andrew, that I 
am utterly prostrate, with but little, if any, hope of 
recovery; that I am wholly incapable of thinking or 
acting correctly on any subject. But tell him, from 
me, that my whole trust and confidence is in Almighty 
Goodness, as revealed in the Cross of Christ." These 
last words were uttered in a most solemn and im- 
pressive manner. My recollection of the very extraor- 
dinary and almost superhuman intonations of his voice, 
is too distinct and vivid ever to be erased from my 
memory. 

When prayer was proposed in his room, as it 
frequently was, during the earlier stages of his illness, 
he always promptly assented; and when not writhing 
in agony, or prostrate with fever, he never failed to 
join in the petitions with much interest and feeling. 
On entering his apartment, at a late hour in the 
evening, a few days before his death, and finding him 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS, 73 

unusually calm, and apparently free from pain — the 
most of the family being present, and the Rev. Dr. 
Linn sitting by his bed-side — I asked him if he 
wished Brother Linn to pray with him before he left. 
He said, " Certainly.' J We all knelt down — the 
prayer was commenced with great solemnity — -a spirit 
of deep feeling soon pervaded the little circle — every 
heart was greatly moved — -but none more deeply 
than that of our beloved Bishop. Such w T as the 
fervency of his devotions, that, contrary to his 
custom, he responded audibly to almost every petition 
that ascended to the throne of the heavenly grace. 
It was a season of the special out-pouring of the 
Spirit of Almighty God. After Brother Linn had 
retired, he spoke of the prayer as among the most 
appropriate and happy appeals to the Most High 
that he had ever heard. During the early part of 
the night, he again referred to " that most extraordi- 
nary prayer"— its singular adaptation to his peculiar 
circumstances, and to the benefit w T hich he had 
received under it. 

Throughout the whole period of his painful and 
protracted illness, he was never known to utter a 
murmuring or complaining word. Though con- 
stitutionally nervous and excitable, he endured his 
afflictions, from first to last, with that manly fortitude 
and Christian resignation, for which he had been m 



74 FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 

long and so justly distinguished. Confiding implicitly I 
and alone in the protection and blessing of Almighty 1 
God, he bore himself, amid the fearful agonies of the 
conflict, with the same firmness of purpose, and 
composure of spirit, which he had displayed in all 
his former life, when called to contend with serious 
difficulties, or to battle with formidable oppositions. 
He was never more truly himself. And never did 
we witness such an exhibition of his goodness and 
greatness, as when, by countless acts and deeds, 
he proclaimed to all with whom he had to do, that 
"none of these things move him." There was, 
at times, a solemn majesty in his sufferings, which 
no human language can adequately describe. As 
in life, so in death, he looked aloft, and conquered 
by silent submissive endurance! That he may, in 
a few instances, under the torturings of di^ase, i 
have evinced some slight degree of restlessness, and, 
occasionally, perhaps, have spoken with some thing 
more than ordinary point, is quite probable ; we, 
however, always found him perfectly composed, self- 
possessed, and, when spoken to, entirely rational. 

For several days prior to the evening of September 
7th, but little, if any, variation, had been discovered 
in his condition. During that night, however, there 
was a manifest change for the worse, in his symptoms. 
He complained of much oppression in his chest— i 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 75 

breathed with difficulty — and slept but little. At 
an early hour on Sabbath morning, September 8th, 
I found him much exhausted, and, as I thought, 
rapidly sinking. On taking him by the hand, he 
opened his eyes, and looked at me attentively. 
I asked him how he felt? He said, " Badly — 
very badly." I recited the first and second verses 
of the 46th Psalm — " Cfod is our refuge and strength, 
a very present help in trouble; therefore will not ice 
fear, though the earth be removed, and though the 
mountains be carried into the midst of the sea" — but 
added not a word by way of comment. He calmly 
nodded his assent. It was a scene of inexpressible 
sadness and sorrow ! The chill of death had already 
seized upon his extremities ; and his pulse beat faint 
and tremulous. 

It was now manifest that his end was just at 
hand. Dr. Bright being the oldest physician present, 
and a local minister of the Church, it was suggested 
that he should announce to the Bishop, if he were 
not already aware of the fact, that he could live 
but a few hours, at most ; and, if possible, ascertain, 
from his own lips, the true state of his mind, in 
this last and most fearful of all earthly conflicts. 
He readily assented; and, after stating to him, 
with much tenderness and evident emotion, that 
he could not possibly survive but a short time, he 



76 FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 

asked him, directly, if Ms confidence in God, his 
Saviour, was still strong and unshaken ? To which 
he promptly replied, with great earnestness and self- 
possession, " Yes! yes! yes!" This was enough. 
In a single word he said every thing, respecting 
his faith and hope, that the Church or the world 
could possibly desire. 

He was evidently in the full possession of all his 
mental faculties. Never did his noble brow, and full 
orbed eye evince a higher degree of intellectual strength 
and vigor. There was a sublimity and loftiness of 
bearing in the whole contour of his face. An 
indescribable brightness gleamed out in every expres- 
sion of his countenance. The scene was overwhelming. 
We gazed in silent awe and melancholy pleasure on 
a face which we had always admired, though never, till 
then, had we seen it clothed with such inimitable 
beauty, perfection, and loveliness. We had hoped to 
hear him speak yet once more of " Jesus and the resur- 
rection," of immortality and eternal blessedness; but in 
this we were disappointed. The attempt was made — 
again and again did he essay to speak ; but, alas ! the 
power of articulation had fled for ever. Finding 
himself unable to give utterance to the mighty tide of 
thought and feeling, with which his bosom heaved, he 
threw himself up on his pillow, and, gent]y raising his 
head, he gave us a last, intelligible, parting look — and 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 77 

Bitch a look ! — a look that spoke a final adieu to earth, 
and proclaimed the readiness of a soul immortal to 
take its upward flight, to "an inheritance incorruptible, 
and undefiled, and that fadeth not away." 

Perceiving that the momentous crisis had come, as 
if moved by some invisible power, we all at once, 
bowed around his dying bed, and while we were thus 
engaged in silent, solemn prayer to Almighty God, 
without a struggle or a groan, he sweetly breathed 
his last. Well hath the Poet said: — 

" The chamber where the good man meets his fate, 
Is privileged beyond the common walks of life, 
Quite on the verge of heaven." 

At ten o'clock, Tuesday morning, September 10th, 
his mortal remains were conveyed to the Fourth Street 
Methodist Church. The concourse was unusually great. 
The Church, though the largest Protestant house of 
worship in the city, was crowded to overflowing. 
The services were introduced by Eev. Dr. Parsons, 
with the reading of the following instructive lesson, 
collated from the Holy Scriptures: — 

" Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth, for the Lord hath 
spoken." "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till 
thou return unto the ground, for out of it wast thou taken ; for 
dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." 

" Man at his best estate is altogether vanity. He dieth and 
wasteth away, yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is he ? 



78 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 



So man lieth down and riseth not, till the heavens be no ( 
more." m 

" Know ye not that there is a prince, and a great man fallen 
this day in Israel ?" 

" Oh that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of 
tears, that I might weep day and night, for the slain of the I 
daughter of my people." 

" What is man that thou shouidst magnify him, and that thou ! j 
shouldst set thine heart upon him ?" " He cometh up, and is 
cut down like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and jj 
continueth not." " And dost thou open thine eyes upon such an I 
one ?" " All flesh is grass, and all the glory of man as the | 
flower of the grass ; the grass withereth and the flower falleth 
away. In the morning it flourisheth and groweth up, in the 
evening it is cut down and withereth," 

" We spend our years as a tale that is told." 

" If a man die, shall he live again ?" " Yerily, verily, I say 
unto you, the hour is coming when the dead shall hear the voice i 
of the Son of God, and they that hear shall live." " Our God 
shall come and shall not keep silence. He shall call to the j 
heavens -and to the earth, Gather my saints together unto 
me." " Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his J 
saints." 

" We have not followed cunningly devised fables." " For we ) 
know, that if this earthly house of our tabernacle were dissolved, 
we have a building of God, a house not made with hands, j 
eternal in the heavens." "For this corruption must put on | 
incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality." " For 
the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with I 
the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God, and the i 
dead in Christ shall rise." " The Lion of the tribe of Judah \ 



! 



FACTS A X D INCIDENTS. 



79 



hath prevailed/' "When he ascended upon high, he led 
captivity captive, and gave gifts unto men." 

" And this is the promise that he hath promised us, even 
eternal life." " He must reign till he hath put all enemies 
under his feet. The last enemy that shall be destroyed is 
death." 

" Oh grave, where is thy victory ? Oh death, where is thy 
sting ?" "I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall 
stand at the latter day upon the earth." "I saw the dead, small 
and great, stand before God." " Blessed and holy is he that 
hath part in the first resurrection * on such the second death 
hath no power." " Thanks be to God, who giveth us the 
victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ." " AUeluiah; salvation,, 
and glory, and honor, and power, unto the Lord our God"— 
" and again they said, Alieluiah" — " the Lord God Omnipotent 
reigneth !" 

The subjoined hymn was then read, with great 
solemnity, by Dr. Parsons, and sung, with much 
spirit and power, by the congregation: — 

" Servant of God, well done ! 

Best from thy loved employ; 
The battle fought, the victory won, 

Enter thy Master's joy." 
The voice at midnight came; 

He started up to hear ; 
A mortal arrow pierced his frame; 

He fell — but felt no fear. 

Tranquil amid alarms, 

It found him on the field, 
A vet'ran, slumb'ring on his arms, 
^ Beneath his red-cross shield. 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS, 



His sword was in his hand, 
Still warm with recent fight, 

Ready that moment, at command, 
Through rock and steel to smite. 

It was a two-edged blade, 

Of heavenly temper keen ; 
And double were the wounds it made, 

Where'er it glanced between. 
Twas death to sin — 'twas life 

To all who niourn'd for sin ; 
It kindled and it silenced strife, 

Made war and peace within. 

Oft with its fiery force 

His arm had quell'd the foe, 
And laid, resistless in his course, 

The alien-armies low. 
Bent on such glorious toils, 

The world to him was loss, 
Yet all his trophies, all his spoils, 

He hung upon the cross. 

At midnight came the cry, 
"To meet thy God prepare !" 
He woke — and caught his Captain's eye 

Then, strong in faith and prayer, 
His spirit, with a bound, 

Left its encumb'ring clay ; 
His tent, at sunrise, on the ground 

A darken'd ruin lay. « 

The pains of deatli are past, 

Labour and sorrow cease ; 
And, life's long warfare closed at last, 

His soul is found in peace, 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 81 

Soldier of Christ, well done! 

Praise be thy new employ; 
And while eternal ages run, 

Kest in thy Saviour's joy. 

The effect of the reading and singing, in connection 
with the weighty and fervent prayer that followed, 
will not be soon forgotten. Every heart was moved, 
and every face suffused in tears. 

The great multitude was then addressed by 
Rev. William Holman. He had long known, and 
ardently loved, the deceased. His heart was too 
deeply affected to permit him to extend his remarks. 
He spoke for a short time, with much feeling, in 
relation to the Bishop's Christian experience, call to 
the ministry, and self-sacrificing devotion to the 
arduous duties of his profession ; dwelling, with peculiar 
emphasis, on the unimpeachable rectitude, and spotless 
purity of his character, throughout the whole course 
of liis ministerial life. He was succeeded by Rev. 
Dr. Sehon, who has kindly furnished us with the 
following copy of his address on the occasion: — 

"I have been appointed, in connection with my respected 
brother who has preceded me, to the painful but honorable duty 
of addressing you this morning. Another could have performed 
the duty more satisfactorily ; but, however unequal to the task, I 
cannot, for a moment, hesitate. 



82 FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 

Death has removed from office, and from the world, our || 
beloved friend and brother, BISHOP BASCOM. We have ! 
assembled in the house of mourning, this morning, to pay him | 
the last tribute of respect — to sympathize with his bereaved i 
family and friends, and to improve this afflictive Hispensation of i 
the Providence of God. 

Yes, our beloved Bascom is gone— he is no longer a partaker j 
of our joys or our sorrows. It is, indeed, a sad reality ; and yet 1 
we can scarcely realize that he is to be here no more. His | 
removal from the scene of his earthly labors, is to us, indeed, a i 
mysterious providence. We, in our weakness, see not as He j 
does, who is the Great Disposer of all events. How often those 
who, to human view, are most needed, and at the very time ii 
when their services are so much required, are taken from 
this to a better world. But God seeth not as man seeth; and 
what to us is now dark, will be revealed in that world of light, 
when we shall see as we are seen, and know as we are 
known. 

Were we not thus instructed from the Word of God, that 
perfect wisdom and unbounded goodness directs all the plans of 
Heaven, and that in a coming day they shall be fully revealed 
to us, we would often find ourselves questioning the expediency 
of many of the painful events which mark our history in this 
world. Even possessed of this blessed truth, how often, when 
those of great usefulness and worth are taken away, are we apt 
to ask, " Why was it thus ?" It is in such an hour, we learn, 
that God, in forming his purposes, and carrying them into effect, j 
is not ruled by the judgments or opinions of men. He is the \ 
author of life, and arbiter of the destinies of man. He taketh I 
away, and none can hinder. There is no wisdom, nor under- | 
standing, nor counsel, against the Lord. 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 



83 



How often do we behold the youth, just entering into 
manhood, full of hope and promise, with a bright and joyous 
future before him, and ere Ms work is scarce begun, fall in 
death. 

The statesman, whose controlling voice is heard above the 
storms of faction and party strife, just at the moment when his 
counsels and prudence are so powerful for good, is called away. 

The victorious general, crowned with the laurels of many 
a nobly won victory, on whom, in the hour of danger, all eyes 
are wont to turn, at the moment when least expected by us, 
meets the last Great Conqueror, and ceases at once to battle and 
to live. 

The father, just at the very period when his family most need 
his protecting arm, and counsels, and prayers, falls in death. 

The faithful minister of the Lord Jesus Christ, who has 
manfully and successfully fought the battles of the Lord, to whom 
the Church looks with such trust and confidence, and whose 
further exertions are so desirable, and deemed so valuable to the 
cause of religion, dies in the midst of his days, in the prime of 
his life. 

These, truly, to us, are dark and mysterious providences, 
beyond our searching, and past our finding out. But they are 
the doings of the Lord, and should lead us in holy prostration to 
say, " How unsearchable are thy judgments, O God ; and yet we 
thank Thee, that righteousness and justice are the habitations of 
thy throne." We are thus forcibly, however painfully, taught, 
that though we are dependent, in the carrying out of our plans, 
upon certain instruments, God is not. How applicable to us, at 
this moment, this great truth ! ]STo one in the Church of God 
occupied a more commanding position than our beloved brother 
who is gone. Prized and loved, universally and justly esteemed 



84 



PACTS AND INCIDENTS. 



for his many virtues and great talents, he had just been honored 
with the highest office in the gift of his brethren. All were 
eagerly looking forward to many, many years of coming 
usefulness to the Church and the world, when he, tallest 
watchman of Zion, the chosen sentinel of God, must die. From 
the labors and toils of his first Conference, and yet his last, he 
has been called from earth to the Church of the first born, and 
the assembly on high. He has finished his work on earth, and 
entered into everlasting rest. 

To notice minutely the great movements in which he bore a 
part, in his active life — the many places and offices of trust he so 
honorably filled — the great virtues which have rendered him so 
universally respected, beloved, and honored, as a man and a 
Christian minister — together with the great endowments and 
attainments which gave him a world-wide fame, as one of the 
most powerful orators, and gifted ministers of Christ — to dwell, 1 
say, on them, and with fullness and justice present each 
particular, would require far more time than the present 
occasion will afford. This is a duty which will pertain to the 
historian — to him who shall faithfully and honestly present his 
biography to the Church and the world, for the benefit of 
mankind. 

Yet, as far as we can, consistently, we shall briefly notice the 
history, graces, and virtues, which adorned the character of our 
departed friend. 

I come not to eulogize him, but to improve the solemn event 
to the glory of God, and to our good. He needs no eulogy from 
me. Being dead, he yet speaketh — his works praise him. He 
has erected for himself a monument, in the hearts and affections 
of devoted friends — a monument, higher and more imperishable 
than any we could possibly raise. At an early period in life, he 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. g5 

entered the ranks of the Christian ministry. His name appears 
first on the printed minutes of 1814, having joined the 
Conference at Steubenville, Ohio, in 1813. It was far more 
difficult then, than now, to discharge the onerous duties of an 
itinerant minister, and perhaps no one then was surrounded with 
more discouraging circumstances than the deceased ; but with a 
firmness of purpose, which ever after characterized him, he 
persevered. He was soon marked for his great prudence 
and good sense, combined with an ardent love for the souls 
of his fellow-men, and a disposition and willingness to do and 
to suffer in every possible way, for the promotion of the glory 
of God. 

From his first entrance into the ministry, he gave himself 
closely to study — reading men, and books — and deep communion 
with his own heart. To succeed in his profession became with 
him a passion. Theological learning was of course the chief 
object of his study — the Bible his guide and text-book ; while the 
other standard authors within his reach were all eagerly read. 
From close application, Ins mind became richly stored with all 
general and useful knowledge, but especially that literature so 
essential to one called of God to preach. He thus became, 
indeed, a scribe, well instructed in the mysteries of the Kingdom, 
and a workman that needeth not to be ashamed. 

His mind was richly stored with biblical knowledge, and his 
quiver was filled with arrows drawn from the armory of God. 
It can be no wonder, then, that he so soon became distinguished, 
as one of the very first in the foremost rank of the most eloquent 
and powerful ministers of J esus Christ. As an orator he was un- 
surpassed. Europe, as well as America, is filled with his fame. 

In him were found all the requisites of the true orator, in 
happiest combination — great emotion and passion, with correct 



86 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS* 



judgment of human nature — genius, fancy, and imagination— 
gesture and attitude — intonation and countenance — all united, 
in blended strength, to accomplish the mighty purposes which 
moved his heart. It is impossible, however, to convey any 
adequate idea, to those who have not heard him, of his power 
and eloquence as a speaker. Those alone who have listened to 
him, know how unlike every one else, and yet how powerful, 
natural, and lifelike, was his preaching. His sermons possessed 
every characteristic of animated and true eloquence. His own 
mind deeply imbued with the spirit of the everlasting gospel — 
his own hope resting on the Rock of Ages, his whole aim and 
object were to bring sinners to Christ. He spoke, because he 
believed, the truth ; preached as a dying man to dying men — as 
in the presence of God, and of the spirits of just men made 
perfect, and as though he saw his crown of glory ever before 
him. 

He fearlessly pronounced the awful threatenings of the law ; 
probed, with a bold hand, the sinner's heart; and in muc'i 
assurance, and with the power of the Holy Ghost, declared the 
whole message of God. His hearers were often led to Calvary^ 
and then his lips seemed anointed with the very dew gathered 
from the leaves of the tree of life ; while, as an angel of mercy, 
he spoke consolation to the stricken, the bereaved, and the 
sorrowing of the earth. All felt, who saw and heard him, that 
the theme was sacred, the ground holy, and that he felt the 
interests that engaged him were as high as heaven, and as lasting 
as eternity. Who, that was present, can forget the solemn 
services, on the day of his ordination as a Bishop of the Church, 
at the late General Conference ? How nobly he preached the 
Cross of Christ, to the immense congregation that crowded that 
large temple! The Cross of Christ was his theme, while, in 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 



87 



trumpet tones, his voice was heard in that vast and hushed 
assembly, proclaiming the Cross — the Cross ! 

Many instances of the powerful effects of his preaching, upon 
the immense audiences who thronged everywhere to hear him, 
and, hushed into silence, hung breathless upon his words, might 
be named. These the hearer can call to mind. How full of 
interest, to some who hear me to-day, these recollections ! Here, 
in this station, more than thirty years ago — here, in this very 
spot, where his body is cold in death, he stood, the legate of the 
skies — the ambassador of God to men. There are before me 
those who, through his ministry, were brought to Christ; while 
from above, in this blissful hour, others, escaped from earth, are 
looking down upon us. But his work is ended ; He who called 
him to the ministry has called him to heaven. Already the 
solemn voice, " Servant, well done," has fallen upon his ear. 
He has entered that heaven, of which he spoke and wrote, as I 
never heard or read from mortal man beside. 

In all the relations of life he was called to fill, he fully 
sustained the character of the consistent Christian, and the 
dignified Christian minister. 

His whole demeanor was marked with dignity and propriety. 
A warmer, or more benevolent heart, beat not in man. His 
piety was genuine and sincere, deep and heartfelt, and fully 
exhibited in all the active duties of life. His friendship was 
most sincere. He professed no regard he did not feel. He was 
above all intrigue and dissimulation ; uniform integrity, ^ and 
uprightness of conduct, marked his career, and rendered him 
irreproachable through life. 

The speaker knew him well ; he was my early friend ; one of 
the very first, near twenty-four years ago, whose influence and 
advice led me, under God, into the vineyard of my master. 



88 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 



How many, throughout the length and breadth of the land, has 
Bascom befriended ! Indeed, at the different institutions of 
learning with which he was connected, and the Conferences to 
which he belonged, he was proverbially styled, " The young 
man's friend." Hundreds upon hundreds, when first they shall 
hear of his death, will involuntarily say, "He was my 
friend." 

As a husband and father, he was kind and most affectionate. 
May God indeed bkss the bereaved widow and fatherless 
children of our departed brother. She claims a promise she 
never claimed before. God has promised, in his holy habitation, 
to be the widow's God, and the Father of the fatherless. 

Methinks, the last tie that bound him to earth was his loved 
family, who, for a moment, bid him stay: but Heaven called, 
and he left them to us, while his deathless spirit passed to glory 
and to God. How sacred the legacy to the Church of Christ — 
the children of ministers, who have lived and died in the service 
of -God ! May the mantle of the departed father fall upon the 
youthful son, and may we ever remember those whom he has 
left! 

For near six weeks our dear brother was a patient sufferer ; 
not one murmur escaped his lips ; resigned and submissive to the 
will of his Heavenly Father, he patiently awaited the summons 
to depart, and, but a few moments before he breathed his last, 
expressed the strongest, the most unbounded, confidence in 
God, 

Could the prayers and efforts of the kind friend and family in 
whose house he suffered and died, and the many devoted friends 
around him, have availed, then he had not died ; could the best 
united medical skill of his physicians have succeeded, he would 
yet have been with us. 



FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 89 

But none of them could hold him here. God called, and he 
must obey. May Heaven, indeed, sanctify this most afflictive 
dispensation of his providence, to the good of his bereaved 
family, the Church of God, and the world at large. 

The services in the Church having closed, with 
an earnest, though submissive appeal to the Great 
Disposer of all events, by the Rev. Dr. Linn, 
the remains of the deceased were conveyed to 
the Eastern Cemetery, or Methodist Burying Ground, 
attended by a numerous procession of public and 
private carriages, crowded with many weeping friends 
and acquaintances. 

Before the body was committed to the tomb, the 
burial service of the Church was read by the writer 
of this imperfect sketch ; after which, Bishop Heber's 
Funeral Hymn was sung by the choir, accompanied 
by hundreds of voices throughout the vast assem- 
blage. 

Thou art gone to the grave — but we will not deplore thee: 
Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb, 

Thy Saviour has passed through its portal before thee, 
And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom. 

Thou art gone to the grave — we no longer behold thee. 

'Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy side ; 
But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee, 

And sinners may hope since the Sinless has died. 



90 FACTS AND INCIDENTS. 

Thou art gone to the grave — and its mansion forsaking, 
Perchance thy week spirit in fear linger'd long; 

But the mild rays of paradise beam'd on thy waking, 

And the sound which thou heardst was the seraphim's song. 

Thou art gone to thy grave — But we will not deplore thee, 
Whose God was thy ransom, thy guardian and guide, 

He gave thee; he took thee; and he will restore thee; 
And death has no sting, for the Saviour has died. 

The coffin having been conveyed within the vault, 
the assembly was dismissed with the Apostolic bene- 
diction; and all retired from this mournful scene, 
in silence and sadness. 

Truly it may be said, " A prince and a great 
man has fallen" from the heights of our Zion! 
Bishop Bascom is no more of earth ! He lives, 
henceforth, only, in the recollection of his brethren 
and friends, and the more enduring achievements of 
his laborious and eventful life. How darkly mys- 
terious are the ways of Providence! "In the midst 
of life we are in death." He who had been so recently 
elevated to the highest and most responsible office 
within the gift of the Church, has been suddenly " cut 
down as the grass, and withered as the green herb." 
H. B. Bascom is gone from this "theatre of crime, 
and exile of misery," to his home and his inheritance 
" far up in the skies !" No more will he be seen amid 
the busy crowds that throng the ways of earth, or 
frequent the walks of Zion. Nor will the thunder 



PACTS AND INCIDENTS. 91 

tones of his startling eloquence again be heard in 
the splendid sanctuaries, the humble cottages, or 
the primitive forests of this great Western continent. 
Low in the valley of death now sleeps, in deepest 
solitude, that peerless form, which none ever saw 
but to admire. Silent, in the lonely tomb, is now 
that inimitable voice which once thrilled the hearts 
of thousands, and on the imperative, though strangely 
enchanting accents of which, crowded assemblies 
hung, with intense interest and rapt delight. But ? 
alas ! he is no more of this world. Yet, still he 
liveth — " though dead, he yet speaketh." Long as 
life endures, will the thousands of our Israel remember, 
and remembering, love and revere, the name of 
Bascom. His extraordinary talents and unrivalled 
eloquence, added to the many excellent virtues which 
adorned his life, have made an impression upon the 
Church and the world, that time can never obliterate. 
While true greatness, enlightened piety, and enlarged 
Christian philanthropy, are esteemed and valued among 
men, will the name and character of Bishop Bascom 
be cherished and honored upon earth. 

E. S. 

Lwisville, Ky.^ December 1850. 



THE 

INSTABILITY 

OF ALL 

SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



TO THE READER. 



The following Discourse is the substance of the 
one delivered before the Louisville Annual Conference, 
at Greensburg. It pretends to nothing more, and, 
perhaps, hardly reaches to that. As I had not a single 
line written on that occasion, what is here presented 
to the public (at the urgent and oft-repeated request 
of some of the friends of my deceased brother and 
colleague, Bishop Bascom,) is given solely from recol- 
lection. I yield it for publication, I must confess, 
with unaffected diffidence, as it is the first sermon 
I have ever written. 

James 0. Andrew. 

Oxford, Ga. 
April 17, 1851. 



8 



THE 



INSTABILITY 

OF ALL 

SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



"For all fiesh Is as grass ; and all the glory of man as 
the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower 
thereof falleth away: but the word of the Lord endureth 
for ever. And this is the word which by the gospel is 
preached unto you." — 1 Pet. i. 24, 25. 

The occasion on which I am to address you 
to-day, is one of deep and solemn import. At 
the close of these services, a number of brethren 
are to receive the imposition of hands, in token 
of their more entire consecration to the work 
of the Christian ministry. This alone, was 
there no other cause, would be sufficient to 
render it a scene of deep interest. But another 
circumstance arises, which will give additional 
solemnity to this hour. I am, by request of 



98 



INSTABILITY OF ALL 



the Louisville Conference, to associate with 
our worship a remembrance of the mournful 
event which has recently sent sadness to so 
many thousand hearts, and clothed our Zion 
in the habiliments of woe. I am but illy pre- 
pared to do justice to this occasion, for reasons 
which must appear sufficiently obvious to you 
all. I will endeavor, however, to give our 
solemn services such direction as shall (at least 
in part), we trust, meet the wishes of the 
Conference; and may we not humbly hope, too, 
by God's blessing, that they will prove profitable 
to this large and respectable congregation, 
assembled in the temple of the Most High l 

The apostle, in the text, exhibits, in striking 
contrast, the imperfection, the mutability, and 
the folly of man, and all the harmony of design, 
and strength of execution, which belong to man, 
with the wisdom, perfection, immutability, and 
perpetuity of God's counsels, as revealed in his 
word. These are the points to which I shall 
endeavor to call your attention. We are, then, 
in the first place, to consider man in his physical 
weakness, the brevity of his life, and the imbe- 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



99 



cility of his nature. How impressive is the 
language of inspiration on this subject, and how 
forcible the illustration of the text. "All flesh 
is as grass." Grass, which groweth up green 
and beautiful in the morning, and perisheth 
before the noon. Could language more clearly 
exhibit the brevity of human life ? And yet, 
such is the word of God everywhere, in 
reference to this solemn truth. "Man is of few 
days, and full of trouble. He cometh up, and 
is cut down like a flower; he fleeth as it were 
a shadow, and never continueth iu one stay." 
Human life is as a shadow — a bubble on the 
stream — a thing of vanity and sorrow. Man is 
born to time; the throes of nature's anguish 
announce his advent into the world; sufferings 
and tears mark his course from the cradle, until 
after buffetting for a while with the ills of life, 
he goes, either by the slow decay of wasting 
disease, or the sudden and unexpected visita- 
tion of God, to find a long and lonely home in 
the silent grave. 

Such is man, and such is a brief epitome 
of human existence. All, all must die, whether 



/ 



100 INSTABILITY OF ALL 

in the green of budding childhood, the buoy- 
ancy of happy youth, the maturity and strength 
of hardy manhood, or the hoar decrepitude 
of wrinkled age. It is by God's decree; 
the certain accomplishment of which, he has 
secured in the physical constitution of his child. 
Human skill and prudence may sometimes, for a 
little space, delay the fatal hour, but it is only a 
brief respite: steady and stern in the accom- 
plishment of his dread mission, Death will come 
at last, and, what is much more appalling to the 
soul, in too many instances it finds its victim 
totally unprepared for the change. Is it not 
most strange, then, that with all the evidences, 
that we are doomed to die, clinging and clus- 
tering around our path of life, and forcing 
themselves constantly upon us, that we can 
complacently close our eyes against the univer- 
sal truth of our mortality, and go on, singing 
merrily of life and its pleasures, till the 
unexpected summons is made, and the dreadful 
death sickness is upon us. Then, as though 
this was the first time we had ever heard of 
death, or known that we were destined for 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



101 



an endless future, we lament our want of 
preparation — complain that Death has come 
unexpectedly — and cry, with mighty wrestlings 
to God, for longer time. And then, if God 
in pity spare us, we too often rise from our 
beds of sickness, of tears, and of vows, to go 
forth again on a career of crime and forget- 
fulness, and do the works of the Devil with a 
greater zeal in his service than ever we did 
before. Such, alas ! is too often the sad picture 
of man as he is, and as he stands affected by 
surrounding circumstances. 

" Thou shalt die and not live," is the unalterable 
decree of God; and this is his certain doom, 
whether it overtake him early or late. What- 
ever station he may occupy in life, or whatever 
relation he may sustain to society, the sentence 
is the same — "Of dust thou art, and unto dust 
thou shalt return." The mighty conquerors of 
earth — those who have subverted, as well as 
planted empires — where are they? The great 
captains, whose triumphant banners have floated 
high in air, over a thousand battle fields — who, 
victorious over serried hosts in fierce array 



102 



INSTABILITY OF ALL 



have wreathed their names, and clothed their 
memories with all the glories of both the 
"laurel" and the "oak, 5 ' — where are they? 
Vanquished at length, and overcome. With 
them, the strife is over — the battle is fought 
and won, and they have surrendered to the 
potent and universal war chief, whose sway 
is unlimited empire, and whose victories are 
coeval with time. Where are they? Alas! 
they have gone down "to the sides of the 
pit," there to confront the thousands of the 
lost and damned, whom their ruthless swords, 
perhaps, sent prematurely to the spirit land. 
The men of might have bowed to the earth, 
and they who, in their generations, made the 
nations of the earth to vibrate with fear, and 
tremble beneath their giant tread, can no more 
be moved to draw a sword, to maintain a 
kingdom, or avenge a wrong. "How are the 
mighty fallen." Lowly they lie "upon the lap 
of earth" nor shall the war-bugle's shrill note, 
or the cannon's thundering roar, ever re-kindle 
their martial fires again, or liberate them from 
the gloomy prison house to which their unre- 



SUBLUNARY THINGS, 



103 



lenting conqueror has for ever consigned them. 
And where, too, we may ask, are the Solons 
and the Solomons — the Catos and the Con- 
stantines — the mighty law-givers of the earth ? 
The men whose profound genius and patient 
toil, elaborated and gave the acts and statutes 
which so wisely govern and guard society 
against anarchy and ruin? Echo answers, 
where? And where, too, are those legal 
luminaries — the glorious lights of the law — 
the deeply wise, and sternly honest occupants 
of the bench of justice, who boldly main- 
tained a righteousness in administration, in 
the face of dangers many and most appalling; 
who, fearless of consequences, spread the pro- 
tection of the broad-winged "aegis" of the law 
over helpless and injured innocence, at the 
hazard of place and royal favor, and some- 
times even at the cost of liberty and life? 
Where are ye? Benefactors of the human race! 
You ivere, but you are not. Your robes have 
long since fallen from your shoulders, and now 
they rest upon others. You have gone to rest 
quietly, in that place of silence, where the 



104 



N STABILITY OF ALL 



oppressor and the oppressed, the judge and the 
criminal, sleep side by side together. But 
your memories should be cherished and kept 
fadeless and green, by every true patriot, and 
sincere lover of honesty and virtue. 

Go and stand amidst the crumbling collonades 
and broken pillars of the classic Theban, or 
search into the magnificent chambers of the 
heaven-deserted Ninevite, or gaze with rapturous 
astonishment upon the architectural remains of 
Roman and Grecian grandeur, and then ask the 
idle loiterer in their courts, for the minds that 
designed, and the hands that reared these glorious 
structures. The vacant stare that answers the 
inquiry will tell, that their names are unknown, 
and their memories perished from off the earth. 
Gone ! Gone ! Yea, for ever gone, from all 
their glories, to swell the long and lengthening 
line of Death's gloomy and dark captives. 

Turn you, now, to those who have loved to 
minister at the altars of nature, who have spent 
long, studious, and toilsome years, patiently 
waiting in her temple, if peradventure they 
might catch the response of the oracle, which 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



105 



they vainly flattered themselves would remove 
their fears, solve their doubts, and open up new 
worlds for the study of their inquiring minds 
— where are they? Perished with their shrine. 
They who, with crucible and telescope, have 
sought to explore the hidden laboratories of 
nature, and pointed the way to many a bright 
and glorious planet, whose light has hardly yet 
reached our earth ; or they who, with untiring 
assiduity, and daring intrepidity, have fought 
and strove in every region of earth, air, and sea, 
to cheat Death of its victims — where are all 
these? In the grave: gone — all gone, is the 
mournful response. 

Now turn to a scene more sacred and 
endearing. Behold a family where all is gentle- 
ness, peace, and love. Mutual endearment 
to each other characterizes the whole group. 
A kind father and devoted husband — a fond, 
considerate, and obedient wife and mother, with 
children well governed, and affectionate toward 
each other. Surely, if earth has any fit type 
of heaven, it is found in such a circle. There 
the Book of God is found and reverenced; and 



106 INSTABILITY OF ALL 



there ascends, daily, and devoutly, the evening 
and the morning petition to a throne of grace. 
There, also, descend, in answer to a living faith, 
the priceless dews of heaven, rich and refreshing 
to drooping nature. Surely, the angels of God, 
while on their errands of merciful ministration 
from heaven to earth, might love to linger 
around such a scene, to behold the sacred 
ecstacy of the happy parents, as they contem- 
plate the beautiful olive plants around their 
table, and mark how delight and affection, and 
buoyant hope sparkle in their eyes, as glance 
answers glance of holy joy and unadulterated 
love. How blissful — how happy, is such a 
group. 

But return to-morrow, and how changed 
the scene! Enter those halls now, where but 
yesterday the sound of gleeful joy and childish 
mirth were heard — where smiling and con- 
tented looks of happy parents were seen — 
where the pure promises of pleasant hope, 
gladdened eyes, and ears, and hearts — and 
whither have they fled \ Alas ! all is darkness 
and dismal gloom. A cloud of sadness, like 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 107 



the upheaving of a thunder-head upon a sun-lit 
horizon, has rolled itself in sorrow upon their 
habitation, and now both heart and countenance 
answer to the visitation of a remediless grief. 
The deepest woe (though the soonest healed,) 
is that which weeps over the remains of the 
departed dead. 

Steal softly now into the adjoining chamber, 
and there behold all the cause of this sudden, 
this fearful change. There, pale, cold, and life- 
less, sleeps the loveliest of all the lambs of that 
happy household flock. The good Shepherd 
has sent and taken awav the choicest and best 
beloved of all, for his own fold in heaven. In 
a few hours, the sable hearse shall bear away 
that beauteous form — the father's pride, perhaps, 
and the mother s joy — to its last resting place 
in the silent grave; and the heart-stricken 
parents, bowed down with the weight of grief, 
shall return wearily to their once joyous, but 
now saddened home, to be reminded by every 
object in house, and yard, and field, of the 
departed loved one that is gone for ever. How 
poignant now, is the grief of memory, which 



108 



INSTABILITY OF ALL 



tells to them, that they will no more hear 
the sweet prattle of their child in this sinful 
world. 

It may be that the husband stands by the 
death pillow of the wife of his bosom. She 
who, for his sake, left friends, and comforts, and 
home, to follow and share his destiny. She 
who gave her young heart to him, in all the 
fathomless depths of its affections, and has been, 
through storm and sunshine, the fond, confiding 
partner of his fortunes, the devoted mother of 
his children, and the almost all in all of his 
chequered life. But the messenger has arrived, 
the order has been received, and the beloved 
must go. For how many long and bitter nights 
has he watched by her couch of suffering; and 
Oh ! how constantly — how fervently, has he 
besought the Lord to spare her to him for yet 
a little season ! But, alas ! the doom of the 
loved, and beautiful, and good, is sealed, and 
the sentence cannot be revoked. The struggle 
is past, and the grief-smitten husband, motion- 
less and wrapt, now stands gazing, with agony 
too deep for utterance, upon the clay which so 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 109 

lately enshrined the loveliest and the best of 
earth. He follows her to the silent grave, and 
there, overwhelmed with his loss, he retraces 
his footsteps to his desolated home, and, as he 
gathers around him his little heaven-stricken 
flock, whom God has written motherless, he 
feels that the hand of the highest is heavily 
upon him. Surely, 66 all flesh is as grass." 

Or it may be, that the fond and devoted wife, 
has just received the dying benediction of the 
faithful and affectionate husband, and exclaims, 
with heart-breaking anguish, Oh ! what will 
now become of us ? My husband was my 
all — was my everything — friend, counsellor, 
nay, was next to God himself; but now I am 
bereft; my little ones are fatherless; who, Oh! 
who, shall now protect and care for us \ This 
is grief, indeed ; and surely, not without an 
ample cause. 

But Death, like an inexorable and relentless 
tyrant, executes his stern commission, without 
regard for the most endearing and hallowed 
relations — even those appointed by God him- 
self The tenderest ties of life are ruthlessly 



110 



INSTABILITY OF ALL 



snapped asunder; faithful and loving hearts are 
broken and crushed; and yet, heedless of all, the 
fell destroyer sweeps on in his reckless course. 
" The grass withereth, and the flower thereof 
falleth away/' 

But turn we now to the household of God — 
the holy places of the Most High himself. The 
prophets and seers of the olden time, where are 
they ? Where are those holy men who stood 
upon the loftiest summit of the mount of vision, 
and opened the roll of earth's closing age; who, 
touched with the burning inspiration of God, 
gazed down upon the rolling and swelling of 
time's future tide, and there saw empires and 
kingdoms "wax and wane," and dynasties rise 
and set in the far off distance ]• — who beheld 
the perishing and proud hopes of earth's great 
ones, as a dust in the balance," and in sacred 
vision wrapped, inscribed upon the tables of 
prophetic truth, as clearly as though the finger 
of God himself had written it there, the coming 
shame and glory of earth; the ultimate triumph 
and bliss of heaven ; the fierce conflict and 
God-like victory of Him who is "the Lord 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



Ill 



our righteousness T Yet even these — Jehovah's 
chosen messengers — upon whom was God's 
anointing oil, and whose lips were touched 
with a coal from off heaven's own altar, lie 
cold in death. Ages ago, they obeyed the call, 
and left the walls of Zion. The trumpet fell 
from their palsied hands, and stricken of the 
same destroyer, their voices were hushed in 
the silence of the grave. 

And the beloved and faithful apostles of 
Immanuel — the holy incarnate — those who 
were called of Him ; w ho saw and conversed 
with the God-man, and enjoyed his most inti- 
mate association ; who stood and gazed, awe 
struck and overwhelmed, upon the bloody 
scenes of Calvary ; who listened, with burning 
hearts, to his first sermon after his resurrection; 
who looked on with measureless astonishment, 
as in triumph He ascended to glory, in the 
bright cloud-chariot of God. They, who 
received the fire baptism and Pentecostal Holy 
Ghost, as their preparation for the great work 
assigned them, and who went forth in His name 
to fulfil the world-wide, and time-enduring 



INSTABILITY 



OF ALL 



commission. Where are they 1 Those greatest 
of earth's benefactors, have all passed away 
from the scenes of their hallowed toil, and, 
centuries since, have ceased both to labor 
and to live. Surely, "all flesh is as grass." 

But turn we now to another scene. Enter, 
now, the Church of God. Stand within its 
altar, and behold the interesting group of 
reverend and aged men before you. There 
are the grey-haired veterans of the cross, who 
have done valiant battle for God since the 
days of their morning strength: and there, 
also, are those who are in the meridian of 
their power — strong and vigorous, and well 
experienced for the work of truth: and there, 
too, appear the young, who have but just 
buckled on their armor, and entered upon 
their career of Christian usefulness. How 
noble is that band, and how 7 full of promise. 

But look now, again, and survey the com- 
pany well. Are they all present? Is there no 
vacant places now! — no seats left empty! 
Tell me, O ye gray and hoary-headed prophets 
of the Highest, where are many of precious 



i 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



113 



memory, who went forth with you, in the 
earlier time, to reap God's harvest, in these 
beautiful and fertile fields 1 I read the response 
in your answering tears. They have gone 
home, and left you, for a little while, to mourn 
their departure. But, where will you be, also, 
in a few short and fleeting years? Gone, too, 
and for ever, to rejoice with your brethren — 
who have already crossed the flood — to be 
happy in your fatherland. " There remaineth, 
therefore, a rest to the people of God/' 

And now, let us ask, in this connection, 
where is our own beloved, our honoured friend 
and brother, Bishop Bascom ? But lately, we 
saw him in the temple of God, and heard him 
there, as in strains of commanding eloquence, 
peculiarly his own, he poured forth the 
triumphs and glories of the Cross — the Cross 
of Jesus Christ in its significance, its power, 
and the glory which it rallied unto itself? 
together with the faith and hope of a doomed 
world, received through its instrumentality. 
And we remember, too, how, when the sermon 
was ended, he meekly knelt at the altar 



114 



INSTABILITY OF ALL 



of God. to receive the imposition of hands, | 
which was to consecrate and set him apart 
to the most responsible office in the gift of the j 
Church. 

Who that knew his history, and understood j 
his character, ever doubted that the highest con- \ 
fidence and richest honors of the Church were ;j 
then as nobly won, as they were well bestowed 
Nor should the affecting scene, connected with 
the services of that hour, be ever forgotten. 
Our beloved Bascom had expressed the most 
fervent desire that his long-tried, and greatly- 
beloved friend, Bishop Souk, should take part 
in the ordination services. To this request 
his venerable friend resolved to respond, though, 
to do so, he was compelled to rise from a bed 
of sickness, which many feared, and believed, 
would be his last. 

Never can we forget the impressions of that 
moment, when we saw that venerable servant 
of God, bending beneath the combined weight 
of infirmities and years, and supported by the 
arms of others, slowly advancing through the 
dense crowd which thronged and filled that 



SUBLUNARY THINGS, 



115 



spacious Church; nor the deep thrilling tones 
of that now scarcely audible, but once trumpet 
voice, as like another Joshua in the midst 
of assembled Israel, he pronounced the words 
of Episcopal consecration. Who that was 
present then, would have been prepared to 
expect what is passing now. Our honored 
friend and father, Bishop Soule, is now before 
us, in health improved, and strength increased ; 
(and may kind heaven grant that he may 
abide with us yet for many years, to serve and 
bless the Church with his counsel and his 
example;) but where is he, who, on that 
occasion, took upon him the vows and respon- 
sibilities of a Bishop in the Church of Cod ? 
He had hardly more than entered upon his 
great work, the future of which, from his 
transcendent abilities, was so full of excellent 
promise to the cause of Christianity, when 
the messenger came to command him hence. 
With a deep and sacred sense of the high 
and arduous responsibilities of his position, 
and an indomitable resolution in the strength 
of Israel's God, to meet all its claims, he went 



116 



INSTABILITY OF ALL 



forth ; but scarcely had he crossed the thresh- 
hold of his elevation, ere he heard the voice 
from afar, of "Come, ye blessed of my father." 
To him the summons was not an unwelcome 
one, for he felt, with his illustrious exemplar, 
that, " to live was Christ — -to die, gain." It is 
said by those who were favored with the 
opportunity of listening to his discourses, after 
his consecration, that they indicated a renewal 
of all that power and pathos, which so 
eminently characterized his early efforts. But, 
alas ! how soon were all these bright prospects 
blasted and destroyed. That same God, who 
had called him and anointed him, also bade 
him lay aside the armour of the " warrior 
chieftain," almost untried — leave to other hands 
the accomplishment of the great work to 
which he had been so recently consecrated, 
and repair to nobler and more glorious realms 
of peace and love. That manly form, "the 
observed of all observers" now lies nerveless 
and dead beneath the coffin-lid ; that mighty 
voice, upon whose thrilling tones, thousands 
have hung, spell-bound, until the man was 



SUBLUNARY THINGS, 11? 

lost sight of in his subject, is hushed in silence , 
that noble heart, which had a ready sympathy 
for all, has ceased to beat, and we shall see him 
— we shall hear him no more on earth ; but God 
is with us, and we shall meet him in heaven. 

But why should we dwell longer on this 
part of the subject ? " Ye shall all die," though 
many do not believe the declaration, at least, 
if their conduct may be taken as a correct 
interpreter of their faith. How many, in this 
large congregation, are even now persuading 
themselves that they will live for many years, 
and so resolve to pass the warning unheeded 
by, and reap a full harvest of pleasure while 
they can, leaving the work of preparation 
for the last solemn change, to the undefined 
and unaccredited space, life's last few hours. 
Oh, reckless folly ! Oh, blind stupidity ! Death 
hath its million victims from the ranks of 
the gay, the young, the vigorous, and the 
thoughtless, and many who are now before 
us, will, doubtless, ere long, whether prepared 
or not, swell the gloomy rolls of the Tyrant 
Friends have fallen around you, the loved 



118 INSTABILITY OF ALL 

ones of childish days, and the cherished 
associates of riper years are gone, and a voice 
of warning comes up from the tomb, bidding 
you to be "also ready," and yet you heed it not. 
Oh ! listen to the voice of inspiration : " Prepare 
to meet thy God." But, if the life of man be 
like the perishing grass, what shall we say 
of all man's wisdom — his skill in design, and 
strength in execution, in short, all w T hich 
constitutes the " glory of man." God says, " All 
the glory of man is as the flower of grass;"— 
more uncertain and more fleeting than even 
life itself. For the grass may survive a little 
the falling of the flower, and life also may 
continue long after all that rendered it glorious, 
or even desirable, is passed away. In this 
regard many have chosen to die rather than 
to live. Imbecility is stamped upon all the 
efforts of man, physically and mentally. This 
is generally made manifest in the objects which 
are commonly selected as the great end and 
aim of life. How few of the more distin- 
guished of society can be induced, until long 
after life's meridian is past, and the sun of 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



119 



existence is seen hastening down the west, 

to give one day of serious, deliberate, and 

honest consideration to the great— the deathless 

interests which encircle and cling round their 

immortal future. But, instead of this, they 

ask, continually, What shall we eat, what shall 

we drink, and wherewithal! shall we be clothed ? 

How shall we acquire wealth \ in what field 

shall we reap honors I and from what fountain 

quaff increasing draughts of sensual pleasures 

and unholy delights'? 

Such are the general objects of pursuit in 

this vain world, without distinction of age, 

or intellect, or position in society. Is it a 

wonder, then, that heaven lays an interdict 

upon their happiness 1 They have repudiated 

and rejected God — his favor, his peace, and his 

heaven, by preferring baseless dreams and 

unsubstantial shadows, to the Holy One of 

Israel — the one true and living God, — the 

legitimate and only source of purity and peace. 

To seek these amidst the vain follies of the 

world, is as hopelessly absurd as it would be 

to search amidst the decay and rottenness of 
10 J 



120 



INSTABILITY OF ALL 



the grave, for forms of life, and health, and 
beauty. God often thwarts and disappoints 
our hopes, doubtless, for the best of purposes, 
in that our best concerted schemes often fail 
of accomplishment, even when the most pro- 
found human wisdom has given them birth. 
The warrior loses a battle, upon the issue of 
which his all was staked, through some 
contingency, which neither the most consum- 
mate skill in arms, nor the most desperate 
valor in action could foresee or prevent. The 
man of millions is made a bankrupt, by the 
simple change in the direction of a passing 
cloud. A resistless tempest on the deep is 
produced, and all his treasures are buried in 
an hour. Thus, by flood or flame, or the 
maddening draught— or, it may be, the villanies 
of an associate, many a one, in a brief hour, 
is sent forth into the world a helpless pauper. 

The deep and plotting slave of ambition — 
the shrewd and wily statesman, or politician, 
may have all the ill-earned gains of a scheming 
lifetime swept away by a day's revolution, or 
a single revulsion in popular feeling. His 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



121 



towering hopes are crushed in an hour, and 
the idol of yesterday becomes the debased 
and down-trodden outcast of to-day. 

xr:^^- r,*.« UiTi'ior! 4W\to tlioir thrones b v 
infuriated populace, and their sceptres, with 

their regal seats of power, lie dishonored in the 
dust together. Republics are proclaimed, and 
the shouts of exulting multitudes announce the 
glorious advent of the genius of self-government, 
but hardly have their loud hozannas died away 
upon the breeze, before patriots find their 
homes in dungeons, or, upon the gory scaffold's 
plank, expiate their sin of loving liberty too 
well. Tyrants re-ascend their thrones again, 
from which they so lately and so ignobly fled 
in coward haste, there, with scorpion scourges 
in hand, to teach the people their lessons over 
again, and make them groan beneath the bloody 
lash of despotism, in very bitterness of soul. 
" The glory of man perisheth." 

God thwarts our wisest plans; or when, 
for his own wise purposes, he permits their 
consummation, it is not unfrequently the case, 
that they prove a curse at last, and we wake 



122 



INSTABILITY OF ALL 



from our vision of years, to find that life has 
been all spent in chasing a shadow. We 
We labored with anxious and exhausting 

of its gain, we have sacrificed both pleasure 
and ease— nay, conscience, too, has been laid, 
as an offering, upon the altar of the golden 
god, that in the " rainy day," as it is called, 
we may live in leisure, and leave our children 
rich. 

But what is the result? The wealth 
is gained, it is true, and luxury crowns the 
board; but, alas! disease, too, is there, and 
close at hand, as peering upon us from the 
very fountain of promised enjoyment. Death 
stares us in the face. There stand our 
tempting goblets, and there our groaning 
tables; but if we eat, we die. Our children, 
the prospective heirs of that for which we 
have, Judas-like, sold our souls and our Saviour, 
commonly become worthless and depraved, and 
give to their blind and doating parent, a 
voluntary pledge, in advance, that the hoarded 
wealth, for which he bartered heaven, and 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



123 



purchased hell, as his final home, shall be 
diligently appropriated to secure them, also, 
a similar dwelling place. What folly! What 
marine t Alas, for the worse than cruel 
recklessness ot uio^_ lo aroun d ^f— they 
damn themselves, to procure for their uuii Clrry 
and wronged children, a home in the world 
of fire. 

Is life, then, no other thing but a scene 
of continual change and uncertainty? Is 
nothing true? Is nothing solid and firm? Is 
there no stable and sure foundation for human 
hope to rest upon? Are we created simply 
to be the sport of fickle fortune in this world, 
and the victims of doom in a world to come ? 
To be torn continually with burning — with 
consuming passions, which impel to wasting 
and painful efforts, and doomed to go ever 
unrewarded? No, this is not the case: there 
is a brighter and more encouraging view of 
the subject. There is a rock which is never 
moved — a foundation which cannot fail — a 
faith that always prevails, and leads to peace, 
and joy, and perfect love. A faith which 



124 INSTABILITY OF ALL 



casts out fear, overleaps the dark barriers of 

the tomb, throws wide the bright portals of 

glory, and conducts its happy subjects, through 

an abundant entrance administered unto them, 

triumphantly into the h*—* ur ® ^ et 

OJ1Y Marts'" exult in the glorious announcement, 

6i The word of the Lord endureth for ever." 

Let us, now, briefly consider the import of 
this cheering declaration. Human laws, and 
human systems, are, necessarily, imperfect and 
defective, from their very origin. The minds 
which conceive them, without exception, exhibit 
this gloomy impress; hence revision, repeal, and 
amendment, must be their constant and never 
settled destiny. Not so with the law Divine ; 
its Author is perfect, as the law is perfect — the 
all-wise, the immutable Jehovah. The enact- 
ments of God are perfect and complete in all 
their parts, and in all their appliances; each 
provision is made with direct reference to 
all the possible varieties of human condition; 
hence no necessity can ever arise for modifi- 
cation, or change, to meet any altered phase 
of society. 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



125 



The word of God, as revealed to the world, 
is exactly adapted to man, not only as regards 
its laws, which are suitable for his government, 
under all circumstances, but also in reference 
to every country, and all time. In whatever 
age he may live — whatever the degree of 
civil; nation to which he may attain — whatever 
his capacity, or his relations in lifp* tjod 
who made him has given him a law, the 
observance of which secures to him peace, 
purity, and hope, and constitutes him a happy 
and useful member of society. But beyond 
all this, the Gospel of Jesus Christ, contem- 
plating him as a depraved and fallen creature, 
adapts its teachings to his wants, just as he 
is — "in the gall of bitterness and the bonds 
of iniquity." It does not send him to the fine 
spun theories of an ever-changing and demented 
philosophy, to search, in endless labyrinths, after 
truth, and leave him there, unsatisfied after all, 
as ignorant and debased as at first— consigning 
him, after spending his powers and his years, 
in bitter and unavailing struggles, until hoary 
decrepitude, and wrinkled age, are upon him, 



INSTABILITY OF ALL 



to the heirship of crime and hopeless despair! 
But it brings him to the rejuvenating fount of 
eternal life — reveals to him the one true and 
living God, manifested in the benignant form 
of the most tender compassion — "God so loved 
the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, 
that whosoever believeth on him, not j 

perish, Wt iiave everlasting life." It preaches ! 
peace to him, by Jesus Christ. It institutes 
no impossible conditions, but simply calls upon 
man to repent of his sins — to behold himself 
in the mirror of Divine truth — to feel the 
deep turpitude of his conduct, and be sorry 
for his impurities— to hate, and turn from his 
iniquities, and transgressions, and when strug- 
gling ineffectually to break the bonds that fetter 
him, it points him to a throne of omnipotent 
compassion, with the assurance that God gives 
the Holy Spirit, in ample measure, to all who 
honestly, fervently, and perseveringly seek him. 
Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ: bring thy 
smitten heart, with all its guilt and grief, with 
all its weakness and woe, to "the Lamb of 
God, who tdkeih away the sin of the world.' 9 




SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



Come, — he invites, he urges, he entreats. Are 
you vile ? There is a sufficiency in his atone- 
ment — for "the blood of Christ cieanseth from 
ail sin." Are you poor? Oh, the riches of 
his grace — that grace "is sufficient for thee/' 
for the poor have the Gospel preached to them. 
Thou canst not be too helpless for the might 
of his condescending goodness; thou canst not 
be too stupid and ignorant for his long suffering, 
patience, and infinite wisdom ; for he offers thee 
free pardon, and exalted peace, * without money 
and without price." And when that pardon is 
vouchsafed, he also gives thee the witness of 
adoption — his certificate of acceptance in the 
beloved — even his " Spirit to bear witness with 
our spirit, that we are born of God," 

But, furthermore, the word of the Lord is 
exactly suited to all the emergencies, conflicts, 
and trials of Christian life. The Bible is, 
emphatically, the Christian's own book. It is 
his rule of faith, and being, for counsel, for 
reproof, for instruction, and for encouragement. 
It hath a word, suitable and in season, for every 
varying phase of his transitory state. Is he 



128 INSTABILITY OF ALL 

prosperous? It whispers, "Be not high-minded, 
but fear;" trust not in uncertain riches, but 
trust in the living God, who giveth unto us, 
munificently, all things, for our enjoyment 
"For none of us liveth to himself." Does 
the love of money begin to infuse its poison 
into our hearts? It thunders, "Love not the 
world, neither the things of the world." The 
world passeth away: "if any man love the 
world, the love of the Father is not in him." 
Are we injured of others? — do they wrong us 
—in person, in fame or estate ? It teaches us 
to "return not evil for evil, neither railing for 
railing, but contrary-wise, blessing." " Bless 
them which persecute you; pray for them that 
despitefully use you, and ye shall be the children 
of the highest." Are we surrounded with 
difficulties? Does Satan assail us with bitter 
temptations, insomuch that we are cast down? 
Does gloom and despondency gather thick and 
heavy around us? It assures us, that "where 
sin abounded, grace did much more abound." 
How sweetly does it expostulate with us, in 
reference to our "light afflictions." "Why art 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



129 



thou cast down, O my soul? And why art 
thou disquieted in me? Hope thou in God; 
for I shall yet praise him, for the help of 
his countenance." He is thy God, Christian. 
Oh, how much is implied in these words — He 
is my God. He made me, redeemed, and 
preserves me, and has adopted me into his 
family. He sees me constantly — knows me 
thoroughly — is possessed of wisdom, power, and 
grace, without limit — loves me as only God 
can love, and has pledged all the attributes 
of his character, for my support and deliverance. 
What more could I ask? True, the deliverance 
may not come exactly when, and how, I 
wished, but what of that? — it only proves that 
God is wiser than I am, and understands, much 
better than I do, how to manage the whole 
case. Then let me rest quietly in His hands, 
being well assured that He will bring all 
things right at last. 

Is the cup of misfortune put to our lips? 
And are we forced to drink it to the bitter 
dregs ? Does God take away health, or friends, 
or fortune? Our counsellor is not silent, but 



130 INSTABILITY OF ALL 

tells us that our loved ones are removed to a 
better land, where we may join them again; 
that in heaven, we have an inheritance— a 
treasure which neither moth nor rust corrupteth, 
and that thieves cannot steal. Has God laid us 
on a bed of sickness, and has he loosed the 
cords of life, one after another, until we feel 
that we are brought into the very presence of 
Death? The word of the Lord is at hand 
still, disclosing, to our faith and hope, a heaven 
of perfect bliss beyond — the place of God — - 
the home of the just made perfect — -where 
fortune, friends, and eternal life, await the 
coming of the good. 

Then let the Christian sing and shout, while 
Death and the grave are doing their worst, 
"O Death, where is thy sting? O grave, where 
is thy victory? Thanks be to God, which 
giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus 
Christ." 

But the word of the Lord is not only adapted 
to the wants of man, in all the changing 
circumstances of his pilgrimage ; in addition, it 
is eternal — "it endureth for ever." Men pass 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



131 



away — systems change— and all that is earth- 
born, is so fading, and fleeting, that we may 
well fear to trust it for a moment. But the 
word of God is immutable, and immaculate; 
it can neither be added to, nor taken from; 
"it endureth for ever." When this glorious 
system of worlds, which spangle space, and 
gem the heavens with their brightness, i( like the 
unsubstantial fabric of a vision," shall have fled 
away, even then, this ivord shall firm remain. 
Whether in its threatenings, or its promises, it 
shall be fully accomplished; not one "jot or 
tittle" shall fail; but its truths shall endure as 
long as the ages of Deity, or the eternity of 
his habitation. Oh, then, let us listen to 
its instructions — let us heed its warnings — and 
let us trust its infallible promises. Christian 
pilgrim, way-worn and weary, here is a staff 
to lean upon; cast thyself upon the word of 
God, and it shall sustain thee, safely, fully, and 
eternally — for "it endureth for ever." 

It will be appropriate, in closing this dis- 
course, to give a brief view of the character 
of our departed friend and brother, Henry B 



132 INSTABILITY OF ALL 

Bascom. We shall not attempt, of course, 
any thing like a "full length portrait," — a brief 
outline alone, must suffice. A more extended 
notice will, doubtless, be given, and by one 
more competent, we hope, and having more 
leisure at command, to do justice to the 
theme. Neither shall we attempt an eulogy 
on the departed dead, — a good, and a great 
man's best eulogy, is found in his life and 
labors. These will tell with emphasis upon 
the " weal or woe," of the contemporary 
generation, and also upon those which shall 
follow after, even to the end of time. Nor 
do we come to glorify the sainted dead ; 
that has been done already, by the God of 
heaven; even the Eternal Father, in whose 
presence, as a faithful son and servant, for so 
many years, he walked in obedient service. 
"God took him, and he was not." 

Henry B. Bascom was born in the state 
of New York, in the month of May, 1796, 
and was partly educated in New Jersey. 
While he was yet young, his father removed 
to the Great West, where his son passed his 



j 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



133 



boyish days and early manhood, amidst the 
wild forests of the land, the silence of whose 
vast solitudes were then profound, and but 
seldom broken, save by the wild scream of 
the eagle, the crack of the Indians rifle, 
or the sound of the woodman's ax. Thus 
circumstanced, he had but little opportunity 
for mental cultivation, from the aid of schools 
and books; and yet, at that early period of 
his life, and with all the disadvantages of his 
station, his soul panted for unrestricted com- 
munion with knowledge. Hope pointed him 
to a brilliant future, and he resolved to be 
wise, and great, if untiring patience, and 
pains-taking industry, could accomplish his 
object. He embraced religion while yet a 
boy, and before he was seventeen years of 
age, was found sustaining the duties and 
responsibilities of the Christian ministry. He 
entered the itinerancy of our Church when 
it was no holiday employment, to travel a 
circuit— no snug little "patch" of seven or 
eight appointments, to be filled once in two 
weeks — with good houses, good roads, good 



134 



INSTABILITY OF ALL 



churches, good cheer, and liberal pay, to 
tempt the youthful aspirant to the work; but, 
four, five, and six week's circuits, of hundreds 
of miles round, with no churches, miserable 
roads (or, perhaps, none at all,) rivers to swim, 
log cabins to lodge in, and jerked beef or 
venison, (often, too, without the luxury of 
bread,) for food. Add to these, a scanty 
wardrobe, and an empty purse, and the picture 
is furnished, of Methodist itinerancy, when 
Bascom entered its ranks. 

It would be interesting, no doubt, to follow 
the heroic stripling through all the adven- 
turous scenes (and they were many,) of his 
early ministry ; to contemplate him in his long, 
lonely, and weary rides ; to watch the struggles 
of his youthful heart, amidst discouragements, 
which would have driven a- less devoted, and 
less determined spirit, to seek for comparative 
ease and rest, in fields of enterprise less arduous 
and exposed. But we have no data to guide 
us, and, therefore, can only indulge conjecture, 
on the subject. This, however, we do know, 
that he never hesitated, nor shrunk from the* 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 135 

faithful discharge of his duty, but gave to it 
the entire strength and ardor of a nature that 
did nothing by halves. With but small 
advantages, from early scholastic training — 
but little time for study, and few books to aid 
him in his course — he, nevertheless, became a 
devoted student; and his profitting was no less 
astounding, than manifest, to all who heard him. 

In the early years of his ministry, it was 
his lot to be associated with brethren, whose 
judgment of a mans piety, was, to a great 
extent, decided by the form of his garments, 
and by his observance of certain conventional 
rules, or usages, deemed indispensable for 
Methodist preachers punctiliously to regard — 
especially if they were young men: and woe 
be to him, if his coat, and his hat, and his 
waistcoat, were not exactly to the square, and 
according to rule. These good men seem to 
have felt themselves specially called upon to 
defend the ministry from pride ; and if a young 
man appeared in the lists, who was more than 
ordinarily aspiring, it made no difference how 
talented he might be, it was deemed a point 



136 INSTABILITY OF ALL 

of the first consideration, that he should be 
duly humbled, and "broke in," by sending 
him to some poor and toilsome field of labor, 
where, upon a hard circuit, and harder fare, 
he might starve out the fancied demon. This 
would, probably, succeed in many instances, 
in driving the aspirant altogether from the 
ranks, which was sure to be regarded as a 
proof, conclusive, that he was never thoroughly 
renewed in heart; or else it converted him 
into a cringing sycophant — -which was almost 
as bad; or, if the preacher possessed too much 
soundness of mind, and independence of 
character, for either of these results, the next 
step was, by some management or other, to 
drive him from the Conference. 

Into the hands of a clique like this, it was 
Bascom's misfortune, early to fall, and by whose 
management and intrigue, he was, also, well 
nigh being driven — at least from the pulpits of 
the Methodist Episcopal Church. This was 
not among the least of the troubles that tried 
his soul, in the earlier years of his ministry ; 
and I have often thought, that this portion of 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 137 

his history might explain his extreme hatred of 
cant, which is well known was a conspicuous 
trait in his character. Perhaps he was in 
danger of carrying it too far; for, while it is 
true, that mere cant is always disgusting, it 
is also true, that, unless great carefulness be 
observed, in attempting to repudiate and sweep 
away the chaff, much of precious wheat may 
perish with it. We know not, however, that 
our deceased friend ever permitted himself 
to be much moved, or hurt, by the course 
pursued towards him, either in his personal 
experience, or pulpit ministrations. Certainly, 
his published discourses bear no evidence of 
any such injury. 

From the commencement of his career, his 
aim was a lofty one, which he never lost sight 
of for a moment, until called away from earth 
to heaven. He knew — he felt, that for a 
special purpose, God had gifted him with 
powers susceptible of a w r ide and glorious 
expansion; that He who gave them, required 
their diligent improvement: hence, with his 
whole soul, together with all his capabilities 



138 



INSTABILITY OF ALL 



and feelings, he dedicated himself to the great 
and holy work to which God had called 
him. 

If he had but few books, he the more 
thoroughly mastered them. One book he had 
(and he perused it well,) which is not found 
in state libraries, or college halls — the book 
of nature. The scenes around him were full 
of interest. The gloomy grandeur of the 
mountain forest, and the wild music of the 
thundering waterfall, spread before him a book, 
whose pages were full of nature's God; while 
the simple, bold, and adventurous character of 
the pioneers of the border, among whom he 
was stationed, opened to him a chapter, in the 
philosophy of human nature, which was full 
of profit, and useful instruction. The grand 
magnificence of these wild-wood scenes, was 
in happy unison with the native temper of 
his mind; and, possibly, their remembrance, in 
after years, constituted no small agency in 
producing that fondness for the terrible and 
the sublime, which, throughout his ministry, 
so marked his discourses. 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



139 



We must, necessarily, pass over many scenes 
of his novitiate in the itinerancy; daring which 
time he was training his powers, by a self- 
imposed, and rigid discipline of mind and body, 
for the glorious achievements of his riper years. 
Under this regimen, which continued through 
his life, his fame, as a preacher, rapidly 
increased, until, by popular acclaim, he was 
acknowledged, everywhere, as one of the first 
pulpit orators of the age. In an unfortunate 
hour, (as we think,) the Church called him 
away from the active labors of the pulpit, to 
serve in her literary institutions. Not that he 
lacked any requisite qualification for the chair 
of instruction; but, it has seemed to us, both 
a pity and a wrong, thus to have fettered 
and caged this soaring eagle. Methinks he 
should have been left free, to sweep through 
the world, a blazing meteor, and to make full 
proof of his ministry, in a field better adapted 
to his unequalled powers. The pulpit, doubt- 
less, should have been his only battle-ground. 
For the pulpit, he was specially designed, and 
super-eminently qualified by the Great Head 



140 



INSTABILITY OF ALL 



of the Church. If those twenty years of 
comparative seclusion in college halls, had been 
given to the active duties and labors of the 
ministry, we cannot refrain from the thought, 
that a far richer harvest had been reaped, 
of glory to God, good to man, and enduring 
fame to the preacher himself. 

In this respect, we are led to fear, that 
many of our best educated, and most talented 
ministers, are greatly in error, when they 
exchange the toilsome, and self-sacrificing 
itinerancy of the Church, for the less honor- 
able—to say the least — though far more easy 
employment, of academic lecture rooms, and 
collegiate halls. If the path of duty be the 
way of safety, it is easy to perceive, that they 
are likely to fare best, who faithfully abide 
in the service to which God hath appointed 
them. 

While we may not attempt any thing 
like an estimate of Dr. Bascom's talents, we 
may remark, that as a preacher, he stood 
pre-eminent. Admiring thousands, in every 
part of our land, have borne ample testimony 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 141 

to his power, in this respect, as the first pulpit 
orator of the age. As a writer, he needs no 
commendation from us; his works are being 
given to the public, and they will speak his 
greatness and his praise, as long as piety shall 
continue to be honored, or genius admired on 
earth. 

We confess, that sometimes, when we had 
listened to some one of his splendid sermons, we 
thought the style a little too lofty, a little too 
ornate, for our notion of what a popular 
preacher should be, to accomplish the greatest 
amount of good: — we should have liked 
more simplicity, perhaps. Notwithstanding, we 
always found use for our pocket-handkerchief 
before the sermon closed. Doubtless, there is 
a peculiar gift, which belongs to every man; 
in this, our friend was not singular. Dr. 
Bascom thought strongly, and loftily; hence, 
the tamer language of others would not have 
answered as a vehicle for the labors of his 
mighty soul. In this respect, he seems well to 
have understood himself, and as independently 
acted, in conformity thereto. His discourses 



142 INSTABILITY OF ALL 

very rarely addressed themselves to the feelings 
of the heart, but, with giant might, laid hold 
upon, and dragged into active exercise, every 
latent power of immortal mind. His themes 
were generally chosen from the sublime, the 
absorbing, and controlling principles of the Gos- 
pel, rather than from the details of Christian 
duty and experience. Like the eagle, in the 
midst of the careering tempest, measuring its 
strength, and cleaving its fury, he loved to 
linger among the great fundamental truths of 
Christianity, from whose thunders, error crept, 
craven, and shrinking away; and infidelity, 
overwhelmed, fled abashed. While exploring, 
defending, and applying these glorious verities, 
his whole soul exulted in a cause, so worthy 
the deep devotion of his heart, and the entire 
consecration of his powers. Another moral 
beauty was, that while exhibiting and defending 
those principles of truth, which Wesleyan 
Methodists hold, in common with all orthodox 
Christians, as well as those which are peculiar 
to themselves, Bascom never descended to the 
ignoble, but too common platform of individual 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



143 



reviling and personal strife. Perhaps it was 
this trait in his character and ministrations, 
which has induced some to call in question 
his entire Methodistical soundness. But if 
any doubt remains on that subject, a careful 
perusal of his published sermons will not fail 
to correct the error. 

In the unfortunate controversy which, a few 
years since, divided into two distinct parts, the 
great Methodist family in the United States, 
Dr. Bascom took a decided stand in favor of 
the South. He did this, because he believed 
the South was acting upon the true platform 
of the Discipline of the Church. During the 
whole contest he sustained a prominent part — 
throwing the entire weight of his influence in 
favor of what he conscientiously believed to be 
the cause of truth and righteousness. The 
public documents, of exposition and vindication, 
of the course pursued by the South, as con- 
nected w T ith the division, were mostly from his 
able pen : they will go down to posterity, as 
a clear declaration, and consummate defence, 
of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South. 

12 



144 INSTABILITY OF ALL 



Here we will pause, and say no more of 
Dr. Bascom, as a public man. But let us not 
forget to contemplate him a little, as a good 
man. He was naturally fond of retirement, 
and sensitively shrunk from much intercourse 
with the world around him. For a man of 
his varied attainments, he was diffident in the 
extreme, and, therefore, but illy calculated to 
shine in a promiscuous social intercourse with 
the world; hence, to those who had only a 
superficial, or incidental acquaintance with 
him, his manner seemed haughty and distant. 
Indeed, such were our own impressions, upon 
first seeing that extraordinary man. But a 
more intimate association w r ith him, speedily 
convinced us that we had done him wrong. 
To those whom he well knew, and in whom 
he had confidence, he was frank, confiding, 
and unsophisticated — as a little child. And 
they who knew him best and longest, will 
endorse the declaration, that a kinder heart, 
and more full of all that is generous and 
noble, in feeling and sentiment, never throbbed 
in human bosom. His intercourse with his 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



145 



brethren of the Conference to which he 
belonged, was particularly kind and generous. 
Both the aged and the young looked to him as 
a faithful friend and prudent counsellor. Many 
times have difficulties anions the brethren been 
adjusted by him; and often, when the clouds 
of difference have threatened a stormy session 
of Conference, his wise and kindly influence 
has swept them away, and peace and amity 
have prevailed. 

We may not forget, in this imperfect sketch 
of his virtues, the loveliest trait in all his 
character — his filial piety. In the course of 
our pilgrimage, it has been our lot to meet 
with many great men, who, after they had 
fought their way from obscurity, to distinction 
and wealth, cared not to remember the lowly 
cabin, where first they saw the light, or recur 
to the humble associations of their childhood 
days. They seemed to have forgotten the 
parents who gave them birtli — those who loved 
and nurtured them, and watched over them in 
their early days. But not so with our friend. 
We see Bascom, when his fame was world 



146 INSTABILITY OF ALL 

wide — when thousands hung entranced, upon 
his lips — when the rich, the honorable, the 
gay, and the fashionable, hastened to do him 
honor, turning to the humble habitation of 
his bowed and afflicted father, and with the 
tenderest and most untiring filial devotion, 
ministering to that father's comfort and relief. 
And when that venerable one passed away 
from the pains and sorrows of life, we see 
him still extending the same kindly affection 
to his bereaved step-mother, his brothers and 
sisters. 

Excellent man. Is it a wonder that he 
was honored of heaven? Certainly not; for 
he was heaven's own, even as heaven has 
now taken him to itself. And, O my God, 
graciously remember his bereaved widow, and 
two interesting orphans, which he has left 
behind him. 

The character of Bishop Bascom is a rich 
study, especially for the younger ministry of 
the Church; and cannot fail of profit to all 
who examine and understand it right. Let us 
present it, by way of instruction and example, 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



147 



to the young men before us. We have seen 
him, in early life, struggling with adversity, 
yet, in the strength of Israel's God, resolving 
to be great, despite the many difficulties and 
discouragements with which he was surrounded. 
He felt that God had committed to him talents 
of priceless worth, and, with the command of 
the Master sounding in his ears, "Occupy till 
I come," he determined to be "faithful unto 
death." To this end, and with a field before 
him rich in promise, and demanding for its 
sufficient cultivation, the noblest energies of 
mind and heart, he willingly, and without 
reservation, consecrated himself, body and soul, 
to the achievement of the task thus assigned 
him. With the glorious result, the world is 
well acquainted. 

But, more particularly, let us present him, 
in this aspect of his character, to the youthful 
members of the Conference. My younger 
brethren, God has given you, every one, 
powers which are susceptible of almost indefi- 
nite improvement — and, in their bestowment, 
designed their finished cultivation. You cannot 



148 



INSTABILITY OF ALL 



fulfill your high destiny without obeying the 
Divine behest, in this regard; and remember, 
God fixes your responsibility, in view of these 
very talents bestowed. Let no young man, 
therefore, and, especially, let no young minister, 
seek to justify a fatal indolence and inglorious 
ease, by affecting a specious humility, which 
is hypocritically "content to be little and 
unknown." 

My young friends — all, a field spreads out 
before you, vast in extent, and rich in fertility. 
To whatever department of active service — 
whether in Church or state — God may have 
called you, see to it, that the product of your 
labor be as rich and valuable, as patient 
application, and untiring industry, can possibly 
make it. 

To the young itinerant disciple of Jesus 
Christ, I would more earnestly and affection- 
ately, recommend the example of our departed 
Bishop. Whatever may have been your early 
advantages, in reference to mental culture, let 
constant study, and prayerful diligence, charac- 
terize your course. Do this, and do it faithfully 



SUBLUNARY THINGS. 



149 



and you will not fail to become acceptable, 
able, and useful ministers of the New Testa- 
ment. But enough: the example is before you; 
I pray you, read and understand it well. 

We say not that our beloved Bascom was 
faultless. No. He was a man — a fallen man — 
partaking largely of the infirmities of depraved 
human nature. But, then, he had learned to 
look to the blood of atonement, and the power 
of the Holy Ghost, to enlighten, to purify, 
and to save. 

The Cross of Christ was his familiar theme, 
on which he most delighted to dwell, during 
the whole course of his ministry. He prepared 
the way for his solemn consecration to the 
office of a Christian Bishop, by a magnificent 
announcement of the Cross of Christ, as the 
subject of his constant glorying, in a splendid 
discourse, glowing, in every line, with the 
perennial, and ever precious truths of the 
Gospel. In concordant narmony with this, 
were his memorable words, just before he 
entered the dark passage of the tomb, and 
bade the world adieu — 6i My hope is above, 



150 INSTABILITY OF ALL 

in the goodness of Almighty God, as manifested 
in the Cross of Jesus Christ!' May "grace 
and peace be multiplied unto you, through the 
knowledge of God, and of Jesus Christ our 
Lord." Amen. 



1 



^1 



I 

! 



